Hermione
by OliveOilMed
Summary: Hermione Wilkins is an explorer with an over-active imagination. So when a woman show up on her doorstep claiming she is Hermione too, no one believes her.
1. Prologue Expecting

Prologue  
Expecting…

Hospitals made Wendell Wilkens sick. It was the main reason he had chosen dentistry as his profession. He had never once been to a dentist's office that had the smell of death clinging to it, nor were there so many nervous people pacing and bumping into one another.

The doors to the waiting room only opened one way: slamming hard against the wall, deepening the well-defined dents. Each time it did, Wendell would jump and look up to see if he could spot a familiar face. Although, each time it was only to see some new stranger running in. Still, he found himself looking up each and every time. There was, after all, someone he was waiting for as well.

And the last time, he finally found one familiar face.

"Hermione!"

Wendell Wilkins breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he saw the bushy-haired woman burst through the waiting room doors. It was somewhat embarrassing for him to be so dependent on the British girl who had been a stranger little more than a couple months ago. But with his wife in the hospital, Wendell was past the point of caring about the thoughts going through people's heads as he rushed to embrace the woman young enough to be his daughter.

"I didn't know if you would make it," he gasped with his arms still around her, "when you wouldn't pick up the phone at the office."

Gingerly, Hermione Granger, took Wendell's hands, doing her best to calm him down. "That's because I wasn't at the office today, Dr. Wilkens. You and your wife aren't working this week, so you certainly don't need your receptionist there."

Wendell nodded and wiped at his sweaty brow. Any other time, he would have chided the girl for calling him Dr. Wilkens (as he and his wife were both practicing dentists, it could get very confusing), but his mind was elsewhere at the moment—with his wife just down the hall and him with no clue as to how she was doing. Wendell's hands moved up to his hair, running through it again and again, as he took a seat on one of the hard plastic chairs. Hermione took the chair next to him, starting to look somewhat pale and shaky herself.

"Have the nurses told you anything about Monica?" Hermione asked him, as she tried to get Wendell to focus on the here and now.

"She's still in the operating room," Wendell said, her words doing relatively little to ease his anxieties. "I should be in there with her."

"But operating rooms are sterile environments," she reminded him. "They can't let non-medical personnel inside."

"I know that. I know that," he confessed. "Some doctor I am, no?"

"You're a fine doctor, Dr. Wilkens. Surely, you must know that?"

Wendell nodded and tried to let the words reassure him. Hermione always seemed to try and do her best to be there for the couple, almost as if it were some kind of duty for her.

Hermione Granger had come into their lives in a most unexpected manner. One night, just after Wendell and Monica had begun cleaning up from supper, they heard the doorbell ring. And when Wendell answered the door, there she was: this bushy-haired young woman with a suitcase in her hands and a hopeful, expectant look on her face. She introduced herself to Wendell as Hermione Granger, explaining that she was a student from Britain visiting and that someone from town had told her where she would find the Wilkens residence. It made sense to them. Wendell and Monica were originally from Britain themselves, and had been looking for a good receptionist for months. Someone from town must have thought it would be a perfect fit. Certainly, it wouldn't be a very long term solution for their new dental office, but the Wilkens couldn't help but feel a sort of soft spot for the girl; something they couldn't quite put their finger on.

At any rate, Hermione Granger was an outstanding employee in every aspect. She already knew how to use every one of the machines in the office, from the telephone to the copy machine to the coffee maker. She seemed to know how the appointment system worked before either Wendell or Monica had even explained it to her, and she also had an incanting ability to manage all of the smallest details that kept the office running perfectly. Hermione explained that her parents had been dentists as well, and that she used to spend her school holidays working in their office.

But for all the good points Hermione had, she also had some very odd habits as well. Whenever she would have a spare moment, she would talk endlessly to Wendell and his wife about stories from her childhood, as though it were her favorite subject. On her desk at the dental office, she kept dozens of photographs, and she would point them out to the Wilkens every time they walked passed. One day, she had even brought her cat to the office—a gigantic ginger monster that Wendell had nearly mistaken for a lion. Wendell had never minded, though. The young woman had become something of a surrogate daughter to the childless couple.

Something that was happily changing today, if all went well.

"Wendell Wilkens?"

Wendell looked up when he heard his name called and his eyes met with another young woman. She seemed to be little older than Hermione; a student nurse who didn't do any real medical work, but was instead entrusted to serve as a go-between for the patients and their waiting families.

"Your wife is fine," the young nurse assured him in that Australian accent that still sounded so alien to him. "She came through surgery beautifully, but she's still resting and won't be able to have visitors for a few more hours."

Wendell breathed a long sigh of relief. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" he blathered on and on, before remembering something equally as important as his wife's health. "A-and what about…I mean, can y-you tell me…" He couldn't recall a time in his life when he had ever been so flustered.

"The baby?" the nurse finished for him. "Would you like to see her?"

"Her?" Wendell found himself stammering. "It's a girl?"

The nurse nodded. "Do you want me to take you to the nursery?"

But again, Wendell found himself simply too dissociated to answer the question. He was still having trouble grasping the current situation. _A baby…a baby girl!_

It wasn't as though having a baby was unintentional. It was something they had planned and tried very hard for. It's just that having a baby hadn't been a plan for the couple for many years, despite the more than two decades they had spent married to one another.

Wendell and Monica had always had a very defined sense of a plan for their lives together: graduate from dental school, start their own practice so they could be their own bosses, and, only just recently, move to Australia. That last idea seemed like something so big and spontaneous that both of them had believed it was something that would keep them occupied for many years. But last summer, it had somehow gotten into their heads that if they didn't make the move right then and there, it would never happen. So they closed down their dental practice, packed up everything they owned, and before they knew it, they were stepping off the plane at the airport in Melbourne, Victoria with nothing but a fresh start ahead of them.

Eventually, they settled themselves into a place called Wonthaggi: a small coastal city where people could cross the street wherever they wanted and where people thought nothing of rodents, reptiles, and other little creatures wandering indoors. It was here that they were able to set up another dental practice of their own (and the ghastly teeth of certain residents of the town would be more than enough to keep them plenty busy). It was such a pleasant lifestyle that the couple wondered what has kept them from doing this years before.

It was a rather boring day when the subject came up. Wendell and Monica were wearing grubby clothes and unpacking the last of their boxes. They had been packed away in the garage for months and they were terribly dusty. It came up at the oddest of moments. Right between unpacking a set of wood carved giraffes, Monica suddenly asked, "Why is it we've never had children?"

They seemed rather old to be thinking about starting a family—Wendell was forty-seven and Monica was forty-six. All this aside, the idea nagged at them. Nagged and nagged and nagged, until they finally decided to give it a try and let nature decide whether or not they should be parents.

It was in January that they finally did get their answer to that question.

"Mr. Wilkens, are you alright?"

It was the young student nurse again, clipboard clutched to her chest and leaning over to see if she could spot anything medically wrong with Wendell.

"Oh, sure, I'm f-fine," he said. "I just need moment to sit down."

"I understand," the young nurse replied sweetly. "I'll be back in a tick."

Turning on the fronts of her sensible shoes, the girl walked away to hide in a corridor until Wendell decided he needed her.

Normally, Wendell would have considered himself to be a very calm and collected man. But nothing about these past few months could be calculated, planned, or prepared for, no matter how much research a person did. It both terrified and thrilled Wendell at the exact same time. Today, those feelings were hitting him in explosions.

"I just can't believe it, Hermione," he said, finally managing to get out an entire sentence without stumbling over his words. "I'm a dad."

Hermione nodded, but remained completely quiet. She must have been overcome by the moment as well.

Hermione had arrived at their house during the seventh month of Monica's pregnancy, just when his wife's belly was really starting to show. The girl had been a tremendous help during the last few difficult weeks of the pregnancy. It had been quite humorous. It was two women who knew nothing about pregnancy or babies, despite being more than twenty-five years apart, trying to prepare for the birth of a baby. It had been a rather unofficial part of her duties (not a real duty at all, in fact), but Hermione had still been there for every step of it that she could. Those times dealing with Monica's pregnancy seemed to be the only time Hermione appeared flustered in any way, and it seemed to be a great distress to her to appear imperfect in any way.

But Wendell actually found it rather cute. It showed that the great Hermione Granger was human after all, and frankly, made her a lot easier to love.

"I have told you that 'Hermione' is my wife's favorite name, haven't I?" Wendell said suddenly.

Hermione nodded quietly.

It was true. Despite the fact that Monica had had her eyes set on medical school since her first day of university, just as Wendell had, she had always had a passion for studying Shakespeare. Ever since they had first learned they were expecting, Monica had pressed the idea of giving the baby a Shakespearean name, particularly Hermione from _Winter's Tale_. Wendell had been somewhat opposed to the idea, fearing they would be dooming their child to a lifetime of playground teasing, but after meeting Hermione Granger and seeing what an amazing young woman she was, the idea didn't seem so outlandish after all.

"Between you and me, I always thought it was a bit strange," Wendell confessed. "Not that I mean to cause offence. In fact, I might actually give in and let Monica name the baby Hermione."

Hermione squeaked, from surprise, Wendell assumed. It wasn't everyday someone learned that someone was naming their firstborn after them.

"The idea of it is starting to grow on me, especially now that we have someone as wonderful as you to name her after."

Wendell put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "And if Little Hermione could turn out to be half as amazing of a person as you are, I think I would probably be the proudest father on the face of the earth."

Wendell assumed Hermione would be flattered by the compliment, but instead, she stood to her feet in one swift motion.

"I have to go now, Dr. Wilkens," she said shortly.

"Don't you want to stay and see the baby?"

"No time," Hermione answered, rushing towards the waiting room doors.

And that left Wendell alone in the hospital once again, quite startled by Hermione's abrupt departure. She had become so close to Wendell and Monica during this time, he would have thought she would be dying to see their little girl.

"Dr. Wilkens?" the nurse peeked out from behind the corner. "Would you like to see your daughter now?"

Wendell looked over to the waiting room doors as though he expected Hermione to come bursting through once again, having changed her mind. He wanted Hermione to stay; he wanted it desperately. Hermione had become so close to him and his wife. It just felt wrong that Hermione should not be with them for such a wonderfully joyous occasion.

But at the same time, Hermione Granger was a grown woman with a life of her own, and Wendell really couldn't force her to do anything.

"Yes," he finally answered.

Smiling wide enough to compensate for Hermione being missing, the student nurse led Wendell down the hospital corridor to a clichéd sort of glass window peering into the nursery. But because Wendell was actually the father of one these infants, he was one of the very few allowed inside. Plastic cribs lined across the floor like chocolates in a box assortment, and aside from the patterns of blue and pink, all of the babies looked faintly alike. Weren't parents supposed to be able to instantly tell when a child was theirs? Had he really managed to screw up as a father already?

"Here we are," the girl said suddenly, interrupting Wendell's thoughts. "Baby Girl Wilkens."

The nurse's hands gripped the side of one of the plastic cribs, the one that belonged to his child.

She was still bright pink, nearly more so than the blanket, and sleeping like a rock. A few strands of brown hair peeked out from beneath a new pink knit cap. Her eyes were shut tight. The lights did seem terribly bright now that he thought about it. And Wendell couldn't believe she was his.

"Would you like to hold her?" the young nurse asked him.

Without waiting to hear the answer, the nurse reached into the crib, lifted the baby girl, and carefully deposited her carefully in Wendell's arms. Then the girl walked away, trusting Wendell entirely with this new human life. Then again, that was probably the way the world worked anyway.

"Hi, Hermione," he whispered to the infant. "I'm your daddy…"

Wendell thought holding his child for the first time would be an experience he would remember for the rest of his life. But instead, he felt the oddest sense of déjà vu, as though he had said these exact same words in this exact same position somewhere before. He also felt this insane need to figure out exactly where it was that he had done this before. Had it been with a friend's baby? A younger cousin he had held as a child? No, none of these were right! God, why was it so impossible…

"Dr. Wilkens!" Wendell was vaguely aware of the young nurse shrieking his name and snatching his daughter from his arms.

The next time Wendell found himself fully alert, he was sitting in one of the nursery rocking chairs and Hermione was gone. At first, he panicked, but calmed down once he saw the young student nurse across the room holding the pink-bundled infant, bouncing her and hushing the small cries.

"Dr. Wilkens, look at me!" he heard someone suddenly order. Looking over to the side, he jumped a bit when he saw an older, rather pump nurse tracing her finger in front of his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "but you looked head on your feet—like you were going to faint."

Wendell shook his head from side to side as he tried to make himself more alert. "I don't remember."

"It's alright," she assured him. "You're not the first man to be humbled by coming face to face with his firstborn."

"If you were to stay in the chair, would you like to hold the baby again?" the student nurse asked him, rushing over to his side. "Nurse Rikers will be right here watching you, so you have nothing to worry about."

"Sure," Wendell agreed, though somewhat shakily. "Alright."

And once again, the younger nurse placed baby Hermione into Wendell's arms, something that came much easier the second time he did it.

Then, the student nurse stood off to the side, somewhat nervous and jittery herself. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Wendell shook his head, but asked, "Can you let me know when my wife is awake? I know she'll want to see the baby as well."

The girl offered a curt nodded and ran to the nursery door to do exactly as Wendell told her. Nurse Rikers stood three inches away for a few minutes, but eventually grew bored and went off to pour herself a cup of coffee, leaving Wendell alone with his firstborn once again.

"Hi, Hermione," he said once again, hoping for better luck this time. "I'm your daddy."

The baby girl yawned, her mouth wide, and tried to rub her eyes. She barely made any noise and her eyes remained shut tight against the Florissant lights.

_This_ time, the experience was completely unique, fresh, and new. Everything Wendell Wilkens thought it would be.


	2. Chapter 1 Wonthaggi, Victoria

Chapter 1  
Wonthaggi, Victoria

As soon as her head bobbed up above the water, she immediately wished she could have been able to hold her breath for longer. It had been a miserably hot summer, and today was especially scorching. She would have dived down again after only a few seconds, but her goggles were completely fogged up, and she couldn't put off cleaning them any longer. As she rubbed at them, she also took her snorkel out of her mouth and drained the collected water. Then, taking as deep a gulp of air as she could—although the afternoon heat still made the oxygen feel too thick to breathe—she ducked back beneath the surface of the ocean once again.

For obvious reasons, she wasn't wearing a watch, so she had no clue as to what time it was. Briefly, she wished she were one of those people who could tell the time of day simply by the position of the sun. All the same, both hands full with ocean souvenirs, the young girl decided she had gotten what she came for and made her way to the shore. Her tee-shirt, shorts, and sandals lay on the dry part of the beach, waiting for her. The girl ignored the scratch of the collected sand against her skin as she rushed towards the large rock formation by the cliffs where her bike was hidden. It was a good thing she lived in the kind a place where a person didn't need to lock up their bicycle. She didn't even know what she would have locked it _to_ all the way out here

The initial path ride up to the road was always brutal, but not enough so as to keep the girl from doing it several times a week. It was a nearly forty-five degree incline and by the time she reached the top, the girl would always be red-faced and winded, no matter how many times she rode that path. The highway was empty, completely devoid of cars, so the girl swerved back and forth, enjoying the breeze in the hot summer air. She was very thankful for the new bike she had gotten for Christmas last month. She had outgrown her old one to the point where it was painful to ride and it was scratched, dented, and generally damaged to the point where a person couldn't even tell what color it was. But at least she had gotten a fair bit of use out of it before she finally outgrew it.

Eventually, the green landscape became dotted with houses, which soon gave way to the town of Wonthaggi. It was a tiny city, understandably so, seeing as most of the population of Victoria lived more than a hundred miles away in Melbourne. White storefronts and speckles of colored houses decorated the Main Street into the town: a greengrocer's, the video store, a gas station right next to the used car lot. The ten-year-old girl couldn't recall one store on this street, or even in town, that had ever closed down, changed owners, or beame anything different than it had always been.

Finally, hopping off the street and onto a small patch of green, she finally jumped of the bike. The dental office was a tiny house on the town's Main Street. It might have looked just like an ordinary house if it weren't for the tooth-shaped sign hanging above the door that read 'Wilkens' Dental Practice'. Most people in town held this place in a sort of dread, the way most people thought of dentists' office. The girl had her own share of painful experiences at the hands of this building as well, but at the same time, there was much more to this place than that.

Instead of the front door that all the usual patients were expected to go through, the girl made her way to the side entrance, the one reserved only for the doctors and employees of the office. And she went through as though she had every right in the world.

"Hello!" she shouted out into the office at the top of her lungs. Several of the waiting patients jumped at the loudness of the call, but not one of them seemed surprised to see the source of it.

"Hermione?" the office receptionist called out from behind her desk. "Hermione Wilkens, is that you?"

"Hi, Mrs. Simms," Hermione said, rushing into the receptionist's area. "Is Dad with a patient?"

"You're soaked to the bone!" the receptionist exclaimed, wrinkling her nose at the damp and sandy footprints she was leaving on the floor. "Did you sneak off to the beach again?"

For the briefest of moments, Hermione felt a slight twinge in her stomach that went along with knowing one had done something wrong. On weekdays, while her parents were at work, Hermione was supposed to be staying at the home of their next door neighbor, Mrs. Foster. At any rate, it was completely ridiculous to think that Hermione still needed a babysitter at the age of ten. So lately, Hermione had taken to sneaking out of the old lady's house the moment her soap operas came on. It was funny; after all the times she had managed to get out, one would think the old lady would have learned by now.

"Don't worry! I didn't drown!" Hermione said, stating the obvious. "Do you know how much longer Dad will be? I have something I really wanted to show him."

Mrs. Simms shook her head. "You can sit in one of the chairs."

Nodding, Hermione wondered to herself just how bad of an appointment it was and how much time it would be as she made her way to the waiting area. Hermione hated the waiting room, but she was excited enough to see her dad that she was willing to put up with it. There was one familiar face half-hidden behind a dog-eared copy of _Take Five_, however, that also helped to make the time pass.

"Hey, Jessie!"

The sun-bleached blonde looked up over her magazine, her own eyes lighting up with recognition in this dreaded place. Jessica Thompson was one of Hermione's best friends. They had met on the first day of first grade when Hermione had had her lunchbox stolen by a fourth grader. Jessica didn't have any lunch either, but she did track down the boy who stole Hermione's lunchbox and the two of them beat him up together before sharing Hermione's lunch.

"Minnie!" the girl exclaimed, setting her magazine off to the side. "Why are you here? People don't usually sit in dentists' offices unless they have to."

"I'm waiting for my dad," Hermione told her, shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the ancient sofa. "You?"

"I have to get my braces tightened," Jessica replied, grinning widely to show the metal work stretched over her teeth. Even though she had gotten used to this no longer new aspect of her friend's appearance, Hermione still couldn't help but shutter a bit at the sight of them, imagining solid steel slowly stretching her teeth apart. Certain boys in their grade had even recently taken to calling her 'Bracy' as she walked past.

Unlike Jessica, though, there was nothing particularly striking about Hermione's appearance; she had brown hair and brown eyes. She wasn't particularly tall or short, and she didn't wear striking clothes or shoes. Her hair was quite bushy, but it almost never mattered, because it was always tied up or soaking wet. In many ways, she was no different than any other child in the town of Wonthaggi. And according to her parents, she was never going to need braces either.

"It's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Johnson," Hermione suddenly heard a man's voice say from one of the opening exam room doors. "Just make sure Mitchell doesn't try to eat anymore rocks, and you should be just fine."

Hermione leapt from the sofa and bounced towards the exam room door. "Dad!"

Mrs. Johnson and her rock-eating son jumped out of the way as Hermione locked her arms around her father's lab coat.

Unlike Hermione Wilkens, her parents were the type that would be quite easy to pick out in a crowd at school events and around town. Her father was quite a bit older than any of her friends' dads, so was her mother—to the point that they were sometimes mistaken for her grandparents. Also, each had a very distinct British accent that could be picked up on three words into every conversation. And, of course, her father had drilled the cavities of nearly every student of Wonthaggi Primary, and some of the teachers too.

"Ugh, Hermione! You're getting me wet!" He worked to pry Hermione's arms off his dampening lab coat.

Hermione let go, jumping instantly to the next subject. "I have something to show you!"

Hermione heard her dad sigh, and she looked up just enough to see him shaking his head at her wet clothes and sand-covered sandals. "You ran off to the beach again, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Hermione admitted shamelessly. "But it was worth it. Take a look at what I found!"

And with a flourishing motion, Hermione extracted her treasures from her slightly damp backpack: a plastic bag filled with seashells and smooth pebbles and an odd sort of rough coral formation nearly the size of her head. "Isn't it wicked?" she asked, still admiring her own finds. "They'll look amazing in the aquarium, don't you think?"

"Hermione, love," he said, "they sell these in the pet store, you know?"

"I have _pets_ from the pet store, Dad," she reminded him. "But I can get these myself."

Hermione knew her dad would never admit it in front of witnesses, but he liked the adventurous streak that ran through his daughter. It was Hermione's mother who remained the most nervous about these sorts of things. It was one of the reasons she believed her daughter still needed a baby-sitter at the age of ten (almost eleven). And her dad was an adventurer at heart too; deep, deep at heart, but it was there. Otherwise, Hermione never would have convinced her dad to go sailing, snorkeling on their trips to New South Wales, or mountain biking and hiking along the cliffs. All that energy towards it must have been pent up after so many years with his head over a book and his hands in a patient's mouth.

"You better get it home to the aquarium, then," he told her. "This bag doesn't look like it's going to last."

Then, he leaned down to whisper, "And if your mother catches you here, I'm not sure I'll be able to guarantee your safety."

Taking good advice when she heard it, Hermione rushed for the door. "Especially since you aren't wearing a helmet!" her father added while his daughter was still within earshot.

Hermione nodded quickly before racing back out the front door, with Jessica squeezing in a 'Good-bye, Minnie!' before Hermione's dad called her back to begin her torture session, and out the front door with the overhead chimes ringing loudly above her.

Once she was out of the office, Hermione found herself running just a little bit faster towards her bike, just in case her mother _did_ see her riding her bicycle without a helmet. She couldn't even remember where her helmet was. After propping her bike back up and hopping onto the seat, she rode seamlessly over the grass and jumped off the curb without a hitch. Again, the rush of the breeze felt wonderful in the summer heat.

Hermione didn't end up going back to Mrs. Foster's house. Her parents were only going to be another two hours before they came home from work, and she felt at least somewhat confident she could stay out of trouble for that long. Besides, she would have a lot of work to do rearranging the setup of her aquarium.

A mile and a half away from Main Street, another street branched off into a dead end road, which was home only to houses. This was the street that the Wilkens family called home, and sadly, so did their neighbor, Mrs. Foster.

Keeping herself quiet, in case the soaps ran short today, Hermione snuck herself and her bike quietly up the driveway. Setting the bike beside the siding, and making her way to the side of the door, she crawled in through the milk door—a tiny door on the outside where milkmen used to push milk through into a tiny room with a door on the other side that lead into the kitchen. She had no idea why they still had it; no one had used milkmen in years. People in Wonthaggi bought their milk and eggs at the grocery store, as did everyone else in Australia. But that didn't mean Hermione hadn't found use for it.

Finally, she squeezed her way through the milk door, receiving a slight scrap on her shin. She probably wouldn't be able to fit through it for much longer.

The Wilkens' house was clean, at least by the family's 'new standards'. Hermione parents had told her that before she was born—all the books had been in alphabetical order, the kitchen floor was always clean enough to eat off of (although any food that did fall on the floor had to be thrown away—no five-second rule), and a coffee cup without a coaster under it was a major catastrophe. But that after they'd had a baby, the couple had learned that it was impossible to organize the world. As long as everything was in a place where you could find it, anything above and beyond was self-inflicted torture. Hermione wasn't sure if this philosophy that she had brought to her parents was a good thing, but she told herself it was.

No longer worried about being heard now that she was inside her own house, Hermione kicked off her sandals and slid across the hardwood floors In one swift motion, she grabbed hold of the banisher and raced up the staircase, something else that would have made her mother sick with worry if she saw her. Hermione's bedroom was in the attic. In old storybooks, it was always made to seem like some horrid punishment, a place to hide away unwanted children. But Hermione loved her room; it was the biggest one in the house, with windows on all four sides of the room.

Up the small staircase and just behind the banister, a rather large, luminous fish tank rested filled with bits of coral and various found objects from the beach in order to make it as homey-feeling for the fish as possible. All the fish in the tank were ones that Hermione had caught herself on several winter trips that she and her parents had taken up to New South Wales. Her parents, who were both originally from the cooler lands of Britain, insisted that Victoria was not a terribly cold place; but that didn't stop Hermione from feeling the goose bumps on her skin every winter when she would need to wear an extra jumper.

"Here you go, fellas!" Hermione announced to her fish as she dunked her arm into the aquarium, setting the new décor into place.

"I found these too," she added, taking out her bag of minuscule seashells.

She dripped them into the surface of the water so the shells would drop to the sandy bottom like hailstones. The brightly colored fish darted back and forth, out of their way; though Hermione had a feeling they were just excited to have the sudden rush of activity in their tiny, enclosed home.

Taking up a large amount of Hermione's bedroom space were various cages and tanks of animals. Besides the large fish tank alongside her banister, resting on a low end table at the foot of her bed, sat a currently empty cage that was home to Chunga. Chunga was a lizard whose species had yet to be identified. Hermione had gotten him on sale from the pet store; a very good sale because Chunga had been there for more than a year and still none of the employees knew what he was. Hermione didn't even know what he ate, but on the first night she had him, he broke out of his cage. Hermione had found him the next afternoon after getting home from school, and Chunga had appeared to be quite well-fed. Ever since then, she had just left the reptile's cage open for various amounts of time and let him worry about food.

Along with Chunga, there was a hutch tucked in the corner containing a black and white rabbit named Spot-Spot, and beside it, an antique cage containing two lovebirds named Bidgie and Bickie, which Chunga had yet to eat. A lot of Hermione's friends would joke that she would eventually own her own zoo, the way she collected animals. But she was happy just to have any of her creatures at all. Her parents, both of them so neat and organized, hardly seemed like the types who would allow so many animals running around their house.

Once Spot-Spot had his pellets and the lovebirds had their seeds, Hermione dropped to her bed, suddenly overcome with exhaustion from the miles of bike riding and the hours in the ocean. Her clothes were still wet, and her hair had been dripping still when she had walked into her room. She contemplated changing into something dry before she soaked clear through her quilts, but she couldn't quite muster the energy to get up.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted something dancing on the window pane that finally made her force herself up.

It was the Spinny Bug! The one that had been hanging around her home for weeks now, tormenting her with the fact that she could never catch it or any of the others.

Despite the ache in her joints, Hermione pushed herself up off the bed and grabbed her butterfly net from just underneath it.

Of course, it probably wasn't called a Spinny Bug, but Hermione didn't have any other name for it. After the first time she saw it, she spent much of the night combing through her own encyclopedias and eventually every reference book in the house.

Hermione had tried to tell her parents about these strange insects, in the hope that they might have an idea as to what they were, but they hadn't a clue. So Hermione took on the role of naturalist: observing the creature, studying its habits. She had even managed to get a slightly crude sketch of it at one point, but Hermione could still tell what it was. Her only alternative now was to catch one.

From what she had observed so far, the creature had one finely-pointed leg which it would spin on like a top. She never did get a good idea of how many eyes the creature had, because it was always spinning at such rapid speeds. It almost seemed as though it had a series of eyes, each one right next to the other, circling around the creature's round body.

Hermione opened the window, needing to stick nearly half her body out just to see where the Spinny Bug had managed to spin itself to. It was dancing along the rain gutter and, for once, it didn't seem to notice Hermione was there. Ignoring the little voice in her head that screamed, _'Think!'_, she pulled the rest of her body out of the window and crawled out onto the roof tiles. It was a good thing the fear of heights did nothing to stop her from the pursuit of science; otherwise, she would have likely been terrified.

Three feet and closing, the Spinny Bug still hadn't noticed her. Hermione raised her net up, getting ready to snap her wrist down and catch one of the little buggers for good.

At least until the doorbell rand down below, causing Hermione to give an involuntary yelp and for the Spinny Bug to twirl its way down to the ground, escaping from her once again.

The doorbell rang once again in a series, in the manner of an anxiously impatient person who couldn't wait for someone to answer the door. Hermione backed away from the edge just a bit, at least until she could make sure this woman was not someone who would run to tell her parents that their daughter was climbing on the roof. But this woman was not even remotely familiar looking, and in a small town, that almost always meant a person was a stranger.

She was smartly dressed, though too warm for a midsummer afternoon. She had a great amount of bushy brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders. In her hands, she gripped one small suitcase. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled. There was no strange car parked anywhere near the house, and she hadn't heard a taxi drive up. Her parents most certainly weren't expecting company, that was for sure.

"G'day!" she shouted quite loudly from the rooftop. She'd had enough of curiosity and now she wanted answers.

The woman on the ground startled and looked all around her, clearly somewhat at not being able to see who was calling out to her.

"Up here!" Hermione called out to her. The woman's eyes shifted upward, confused, at least until she finally did notice Hermione.

"Who on earth are you?" she shouted up at the younger girl.

"Who the heck are _you_?" Hermione asked her back. "This is _my_ house. You tell me first."

"My name is Hermione Weasley," she called up to Hermione, although she still seemed a bit confused about having a conversation with someone on a rooftop. "I'm looking for the Wilkens'. Do they still live here?"

"Hermione Weasley?" Hermione asked, giggling in amusement. "I'm Hermione _Wilkens_! Isn't that something?"

Hermione laughed about it a moment longer, before trailing as she noticed something puzzling: the older Hermione wasn't laughing. Hermione realized that sharing the same name as someone else was hardly an aspect to make a comedy around, but the way this woman was reacting didn't seem right either. She had gone sort of pale and almost sick-looking.

"My parents aren't here right now; they're both at work," Hermione told the visitor. "But if you give me a moment or two to get down, you can come in for something to drink while you wait."

But Hermione never did get an answer from the strange woman.

"Hermione Wilkens, what are you doing on that roof?"

Hermione cringed slightly before finally looking towards the source of the voice. It was the neighbor lady, Mrs. Foster, the woman whose house Hermione was supposed to be staying at while her parents were at work, wandering about the garden and happening to see the little girl crawling on the roof. She stood looking up over her side of the fence, donning her wide-brimmed hat and long-sleeve shirt; pushing seventy and still fearing the dangers of skin cancer. Hermione had always wondered why on earth would she stay in Australia if she was so afraid of the sun?

"Hermione!" the old bat screamed once again.

"I wasn't going to stay for very long, Mrs. Foster," Hermione tried to reason with her neighbor. "I was talking to the lady…"

Her voice trailed off once her eyes fell back to where she had been speaking to the other Hermione before. She wasn't there. There wasn't a trace of her; not her hat, her too-small suitcase, or anything else that might suggest another person had been there moments before.

"Get back in the house!" Mrs. Foster shrieked.

Heavily distracted by her own confusion over the strange lady, Hermione found it easier not to argue. Climbing back in through her bedroom window, she slowly made her way down the stairs and to the front door where Mrs. Foster was waiting for her. Hermione had no idea how the woman had managed to move so fast.

"Get into the kitchen!" she ordered, stepping into the house without being invited. "You can bet your parents are going to hear all about this…"

Hermione nodded along with Mrs. Foster's ranting lecture, but found herself distracted. She continued to stare at the spot where she was certain she had seen a woman also named Hermione talking to her from her spot on the roof. She wandered out further to inspect the rest of the driveway and the yard, on the off chance the woman was just hiding somewhere. It was a ridiculous-sounding idea, when Hermione thought about it further, but she couldn't think of any other explanation for what had happened. There wasn't any real way she could have escaped from where she was, not without drawing attention.

_None of it made any sense at all._ And this is what Hermione thought to herself the whole while Mrs. Foster was dragging her back to her house so Hermione could call her parents and tell them herself what she had done.


	3. Chapter 2 House Guest

Chapter 2  
House Guest

Hermione stabbed at her meat with her fork and pretended it was Mrs. Foster's face. It was a horrible thing to think about someone, she knew, but Hermione couldn't help it.

"Hermione, stop mutilating the chicken!" Hermione's mother stared critically at her daughter's somewhat violent dinner habits. Not really trusting herself to hold the fork without causing anymore damage to the poultry, Hermione set it down and picked up her milk instead.

To say Hermione was in trouble was putting the situation lightly. In the past, her parents had made allowances for some of her more risky pastimes (snorkeling, rock climbing, and other such things) because 'it's just what Aussie children do' and chalked it up to a culture thing. But as it turns out, climbing out of one's bedroom window and onto the roof was considered dangerous in all cultures, and therefore resulted in a month of being grounded, which also included calling Mrs. Foster's house once every hour to make sure she was actually there.

Tonight the table was unusually quiet. Legally, her parents couldn't talk about work too deeply, for fear of being sued, so most of their table conversation revolved around what Hermione had done on any given day. For obvious reasons, though, no one was talking about Hermione and what she had done this afternoon. It would only start yet another fight.

Hermione's father sat at the far end of the table, but her mother took the seat right beside her to make sure Hermione wouldn't do anything else that could be considered untrustworthy with her supper (although she wasn't quite sure what that could possibly be).

Like her father, Hermione's mother was far older than the mothers of many of her friends. She wore thick-rimmed glasses for her worsening eyesight. Her hair was cut short and considerably bushy taking into account that she didn't devote an hour and a half of styling it in the morning. The corners of her eyes and mouth were finely decorated with a fair amount of worry lines, which Hermione's dad liked to joke had only just appeared in the past ten years.

Suddenly, a welcomed interruption to the disturbing silence came in the form of the doorbell ringing.

"I got it!" Hermione shouted, jumping to her feet before her parents would say otherwise. Answering the door would be as close to going outdoors as she would be getting for a while.

Throwing herself around the corner of the doorframe, Hermione bolted towards the front door in her bare feet. Maybe, if she was lucky, it would be a ding-ding-ditch prank and she could actually go stand out on the front step 'looking' for whoever had been there. But when she opened the door, she didn't find an empty doorstep, but it was quite possibly the next best thing.

It was her! The bushy-haired woman she had seen earlier that had gotten her into so much trouble in the first place!

"Hello," she said softly, in a voice that oddly reminded her of her mother's, as though she were afraid of being overheard. "You're Hermione, right? We spoke briefly this afternoon. I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble."

But Hermione was far past the point of caring about some petty little incident that had gotten her grounded. Not when she had just been given the opportunity to prove she had been right after all.

"Inside!" she ordered, grabbing the woman's hand and pulling her through the door. "Come inside, right now!"

Hermione walked backwards, dragging the stumbling woman along with her with every bit of strength she had in her ten-year-old body. It wasn't easy, though, seeing as the woman, in turn, seemed to be doing everything she could to keep from following her. Eventually, Hermione came up with an easier solution.

"Mum, Dad!" Hermione shouted, just short of the doorframe leading to the kitchen. "Come here, quick!"

Upon hearing the scraping chairs and what could have been a glass shattering against the floor, Hermione considered the fact that she could have made her shrieking sound a little less urgent. Hearing her scream, a person might have thought they had just been delivered a box full of scorpions. When they got to the entryway, the both of them were breathing hard, eyes sweeping like a pair of gazelles on the savannah.

"This is her!" Hermione told them, showing off the visitor with a grand, sweeping gesture. "This is the lady I saw this afternoon."

Both of Hermione's parents appeared sincerely shocked, but something about their expressions led Hermione to believe it wasn't completely about the fact that their daughter had been right.

"Hermione Granger!" Hermione's mother spoke first, adjusting her glasses on her nose as though she didn't quite trust what she was seeing. "Hermione Granger, is that you?"

The woman in Hermione's grip shrugged, becoming somewhat more relaxed upon seeing Hermione's parents. "It's actually Hermione Weasley now."

"I told you she was real!" Hermione shouted, reminding them of the point she had wanted to make in the first place.

But from the looks on her parents' faces, Hermione knew that last phrase was probably not necessary. Chances were her parents knew this woman existed even before Hermione did.

* * *

"What on earth brings you back to Australia?"

The woman, Hermione Weasley, sat on a loveseat that would have had room for other people, but she sat there alone. Hermione took the couch standing at a right angle to them, while little Hermione took her seat on a woven rug with her elbows balanced atop the coffee table, her head in her hands. As an only child, Hermione was used to sitting quietly while her parent conversed with their friends about things she didn't care about. But seeing as this involved her as well, she made a point to pay attention for a change.

Apparently, this older Hermione had come to Australia as a student just before Hermione was born and her parents had barely been living in Wonthaggi for a year. They were all originally from Britain, on their own in a new country, and they had bonded over that fact. Hermione Weasley had worked as their receptionist when they'd just started their dental practice, and was apparently the only reason the office didn't burn down while they were scraping the teeth of strangers. For a moment, Hermione wondered to herself what it would be like if Hermione Weasley were still working for her parents instead of Mrs. Simms, who constantly smelled of old butterscotch and ran straight to Hermione's parents every time she saw something moving inside the girl's backpack.

"Nostalgia, mostly," she answered, stirring her tea. "There are a lot of good memories of this place. You both made sure of that."

"Well, I'm glad to have you back," Hermione's mum told her, stirring her tea, even though she hadn't added anything to it. "You left so suddenly the last time you were here. I don't feel we ever got to have a proper good-bye."

"You left so soon last time, you didn't even get the chance to hold little Hermione," her dad said, sadly at first, then in a more joking manner. "I'm sorry to say that she's too big to hold now."

Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she became thoroughly embarrassed. This was something else that was common for her as an only child, but still something she had yet to get used to. And her friends informed her that she never would.

"I'm going to go check on the ice cream," she said, pushing herself to her feet and excusing herself from the conversation. "It should be soft now."

By the time Hermione had made it to the kitchen, her face felt so hot, it actually took restraint not to shove her face directly into the ice cream box set out on the counter, but she had a feeling it would be somewhat rude to present the company with a dish of strawberry-vanilla that had a nose imprint in it. So instead, she collected the bowls and spoons and began scooping out large servings. The ice cream box was a bright red box, laced with frost and the words 'Sugar Free' written in large, blaring letters for the whole world to see. The Wilkens house had never had any food product made from real, processed sugar pass through the front door. To be honest, it was a bit embarrassing to have all these foods without sugar in her home. As though Hermione couldn't be trusted to brush her teeth after a serving of cake!

Balancing all four bowls across her arms like a circus performer, Hermione made her wobbly way back out to the living room. When she made it to the coffee table without dropping anything, her mother's face went into a thin, worried line, but her father offered a few claps for the show and laughed when her mother's expression turned on him. "What? Nothing was broken!"

Hermione's mother _humphed_ under her breath, but her father laughed again and went back to the previous conversation with the older Hermione. "What kind of work are you doing?"

Hermione Weasley stirred her tea thoughtfully, in much the same way Hermione had seen her own mother do it just moments before. "I'm actually a barrister now."

"Oh, I knew you were going on to bigger and better things!" Hermione's mother exchanged. "Think you'll ever end up running for Parliament?"

The older Hermione appeared overwhelmed by the very notion. "No! No, I don't think so."

"That's right! You've embarked on an entirely different adventure now," Hermione's father said after swallowing a large helping of his ice cream. "Married life! Tell me, what's his name? Are you planning on any children?"

The older Hermione's face held an almost dreamy sort of look as she used her spoon to play with her own dessert. "His name's Ron. He's a wonderful man. He's a…detective. And, we actually already have two children."

"You do not!" Hermione's mother exclaimed, shocked. "Pictures! You have to show us!"

This was a sort of parent code Hermione had come to observe over the years. Her own parents must have had a dozen pictures of her each that they carried around in their wallets. And whenever they would encounter a new parent, there would always be a photo exchange. Unless they had the actual child to show off instead. And apparently, as the older Hermione reached into her purse, extracting something from her wallet, she was no different.

"Here they are," she said. "Rose and Hugo."

While Hermione's parents were fawning over the photo, the girl pushed herself up off the floor and peeked over her parents' shoulders so she could have a look as well. There was a little girl, probably two, cuddling with her young baby brother. Even though the boy barely had any hair yet, it was clear that the siblings were both going to have the same bright orange species of redhead, their faces speckled with freckles. The older Hermione was a very ordinary looking woman with brown hair and brown eyes, so it was fairly obvious what her husband looked like.

"Oh, they're adorable!" Hermione's mother cooed over the pair. "The little girl has your smile!"

"Look at the ears on that boy!" Hermione's dad exclaimed. "I don't mean any offence, but this boy is going to have absolutely no luck with girls."

Hermione Weasley smiled, a slight laugh in her tone. "Knowing his father, I had a feeling that was going to be a possibility anyway," she admitted. "I'm still not quite sure how he got me to marry him."

Hermione's mother laughed and shook her head, as though she knew exactly what she was talking about. "Hermione, could you check to see if there are any teabags left?"

Hermione turned to go to the kitchen, but from behind, she heard older Hermione as well. "Alright, where are they?"

"No, I meant Hermione our daughter."

Still, this did not seem to do very much to ease Hermione Weasley's confusion. She still remained in her odd half-standing, half-sitting position.

Hermione's mother formed into a thin line once again at the confusion in the room. "Hermione, go to bed."

This time, Hermione did not budge. It was barely past eight, and she was on summer vacation! _She_ was most certainly not going to bed. But older Hermione _did_ rise to her feet as though she were going to make her way to the staircase. As though she actually believed she had to obey Hermione's parents.

Hermione's dad laughed again, this time in a nervous sort of way. "Well, this is certainly going to get confusing!"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "You guys could start calling me Minnie," she suggested. Granted, the older Hermione would not be here for very long, but that was no reason not to finally train her parents to use her more well-known nickname.

It was hardly an outrageous idea. Almost everyone called her Minnie; certainly everyone under the age of fifty. Her parents were the only others who had refused to accept the concept, that Hermione had been considered 'Minnie' by most everyone since kindergarten.

"If we wanted to call you Minnie, we would have put it on your birth certificate," her mother argued. "I swear, you and your little friends can and will use any excuse to give someone a nickname; even that girl, Jane Keller."

Hermione hardly saw how what people called Ja-Ja had anything to do with this exact situation. _She_ didn't have to share her name with someone she had known for exactly two hours.

"Alright," Hermione said in a fake relenting tone. "So is there just going to be Hermione One and Hermione Two for this visit?"

Hermione's mother didn't have an answer for that. She couldn't argue with what she had seen for herself. Hermione's dad raised his coffee cup to answer for her. "Minnie, it is! Your mum has always been in love with the name Hermione, so she's just having a hard time accepting it. Even though she's had years to do it!"

Hermione's dad laughed, and eventually, so did her mother; but it was a nervous sort of laugher, as though the topic and the company together made it all uncomfortable.

The older—and now only—Hermione stood up and began collecting the empty ice cream dishes. "I'll clear the table."

"No, no," Hermione's mum insisted, pulling the collected plates out of older Hermione's hands. "Guests in this house are not allowed to do housework."

Taking up the coffee cups as well, she then turned to her daughter.

"If you want to help, though, Minnie, you can take Hermione's suitcase and show her where to the guest room."

Hermione, newly christened Minnie, happily took up the suitcase, which was far heavier than she imagined it would be, as though it were filled with bricks. Walking backwards up the steps, she maneuvered it one step at a time, grasping the handle with both hands. She was sure she knocked it against the stairs at least of few times, and noted the worried expression on Hermione's face every time she did. It wasn't as though it ever crashed very hard, and if there really were bricks in the suitcase, she couldn't exactly hurt them.

Although it seemed to take an eternity, Minnie eventually reached the top of the staircase, thankful that the guestroom was the door closest to her. It didn't really matter in the end. Hermione took up the suitcase the moment she reached the second floor, much more easily than Minnie had, from being older and likely expecting the heaviness of it.

But she did wait for Minnie to open the door for her.

"Here it is," Minnie said, gesturing around the room with both hands. "The bathroom is the second door on the right. My parents wake up early, so I hope you're not a light sleeper."

"I'll be fine," Hermione told her, dropping her suitcase onto the bed, where it bounced and then sank deeply. For the moment, she left the case along and wandered around the room without purpose, almost like an animal exploring a new cage. In a way, it was like she was trying to ignore Minnie, but also almost like she was afraid of her. Her shoulders had gone a lot stiffer now that it was just the two of them, and her breath seemed to become more rapid, as though Minnie were a poisonous spider.

"So…" Minnie went on, not sure of what else she could say, "I'll see you later."

Still, the older Hermione didn't turn around, but Minnie could make out the vaguest of nods. She didn't look down to make eye contact with her small host. It was clear that Minnie no longer had any way of being useful, so she began moving backwards, pulling the door closed, but still peaking as the crack grew smaller.

"_Whoa,_" she breathed, slowly making her way back to the attic door. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this woman was off. And she couldn't really tell if it was in a good way or a bad way.

* * *

Barefoot and fresh out of the shower, Minnie passed by the guestroom once again later that night. In her room, picking out her pajamas, drying off her hair, she could not quit thinking about that woman, Hermione Weasley. How could that woman possibly be afraid of Minnie? She didn't even know her. And Minnie was hardly what anyone would consider intimidating, not like Patty Murphy, who was supposedly only ten, yet nearly five and a half feet tall and more muscle than anything else.

When she finally did reach the guestroom, Minnie didn't make so much as a peep. The door was open, just a crack, and she couldn't really see anything. So she began tapping at it with her toes, again and again until the door was completely open. All by herself, Hermione appeared to be much more at ease than she had been before. She was even humming to herself as she packed pieces of clothing into the nearby dresser.

"Hi!" Minnie said suddenly.

Hermione jumped and spun around as though she were being ambushed. But even after she saw it was only Minnie, she did little in the way of calming down. "What? What is it?"

"Well, I thought we could talk now," Minnie explained. "You've had time to rest and all."

The older woman stared at Minnie as though she were insane. As though the idea of actually having a conversation with one of her hosts was on par with running through the streets in a chicken suit.

"Alright then," Hermione agreed finally, but she went back to her suitcase as though Minnie had already left.

But Minnie wasn't about to be deterred by a cool attitude. As an only child, she had a lot of practice in getting attention from adults. "What are you up to?"

"I'm just unpacking," Hermione said, not looking up from her suitcase. She did make eye contact with Minnie once she realized the girl was not leaving, making herself quite comfortable on the guestroom bed.

"Do you need any help?" Minnie offered, peering over into the suitcase.

Hermione moved to block her view. "No, I don't have very much to unpack."

"Is there anything else you need?" Minnie tried again. "I could make you some chamomile tea or even find some books you could borrow."

"No, I'm fine."

The woman wasn't even _trying_ to make conversation. Granted, Minnie knew of very few adults in the world that would find a conversation with a fifth grader entertaining.

"Do you like animals?" Minnie asked, still trying to make nice with her family's new houseguest. "I have a rabbit."

Hermione didn't seem very interested. She continued to unpack various pieces of clothing into the small bureau. It looks as though she were settling in for a long stay.

Minnie tried again. "And a lizard, and two lovebirds, and an aquarium."

"Aspiring naturalist, are you?"

Minnie shrugged her shoulders. "I guess." She wasn't exactly sure what a naturalist was.

She allowed Hermione a few moments of quiet to unpack, and this time, she didn't seem as concerned about Minnie seeing into her suitcase. At once, Minnie spotted something that really caught her eye. It was a wooden rod of some sort; dark and beautifully polished. It had an intricately carved handle, as though it were something meant for some sort of use, not just decoration.

"Wicked!" Minnie breathed, reaching in to take hold of the handle herself. "What's this for?"

"No, don't touch that!" Hermione jumped and grabbed at the top of the suitcase, as though she were going to snap it down over Minnie's hand to keep her from touching the artifact.

"Okay, okay! Sorry!" Minnie cradled her hand against her, though it hadn't actually been hurt. Although it didn't do anything to stop her from reaching for the suitcase when she saw yet another shiny object tucked beneath a blouse. "Do have anything else cool in here?"

This time, the top of the suitcase _did_ come crashing down, thankfully before Minnie's fingers were anywhere near it.

"Don't you know better than to go through other people's things?" she snapped.

Minnie couldn't believe it. Deep down, she knew it wasn't polite to peek through a stranger's suitcase like that, but Hermione was completely over-reacting. It wasn't as though Minnie had actually touched any of her things, and while the rod in her suitcase was beautiful, it was hardly an uncut ruby.

"You should go to bed," Hermione told her, still remaining quite guarded of her closed suitcase. "It's getting late."

"It's eight thirty!" Minnie argued.

"Alright, then," Hermione replied shortly. "How about you just leave?"

Minnie pushed herself off the bed, and backed towards the door. That was fine by her! For all Minnie knew, if she stayed any longer, this strange woman would try and throw a lamp at her!

"You might see Chunga, the lizard, running around the house every now and again while you're here," she warned. "Don't let him scare you."

Minnie shut the door behind her, feeling slightly more smug than she ever had before. Now Hermione could be nervous and on edge whenever Minnie was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Minnie's parents always told her that the second she became a teenager, sleeping late would become her new favorite pastime. Minnie still had yet to become a teenager, so yet again, she was awake when there was still dew lacing the rooftops. That morning, she still rose at the early dentist's hours that she had her whole life. Of course, with a room full of animals wanting their breakfast, it was likely that she would never even be allowed to sleep very late. Most of the animals were easy enough to feed: Spot-Spot got his pellets, Bidgie and Bickie got their birdseed, and the fish all got their freeze-dried fish flakes. The last of Minnie's menagerie, however, was a bit more challenging, even though it involved no real work on her part.

"'Morning, Chunga!" she greeted the lizard, removing him gently from his cage. "Do you want your breakfast?"

Chunga had never shown any signs of understanding human language, and she didn't know why he would start now. Minnie settled the reptile against her shoulder and carried him down the staircase from the attic, and then down to the first floor. Minnie had never seen Chunga eat in all the years she had owned him, but taking him downstairs every morning before everyone left became the routine and Chunga had yet to stave to death.

"Alright," she said, setting the reptile on the floor. "Go get your breakfast!"

His feet barely on the floor, Chunga took off like a shot underneath the couch, as though he already knew exactly where to find his mysterious food source. Minnie had checked under the couch at least a dozen times, though, and had never found anything besides dust and the occasional loose change.

In the back of her mind, Minnie hoped that whatever it was that Chunga liked to eat crawled its way into Hermione's hair. _That_ would be a lovely way to start the day. But Minnie was sure to wipe any expression from her face that would hint at these thoughts as she made her way into the kitchen.

"'Morning, Mum! 'Morning, Dad!" she greeted them as she did every morning.

Minnie's mum wasn't there, but the sound of the hair dryer buzzing down the hall let her know exactly where she was. Her dad, however, was at the table with his coffee and the paper. Minnie's dad never actually read any of the stories in the morning; he said the only use in that was when you wanted to start the day off on a depressing note. He did make a point to do all the puzzles the paper had to offer: the crossword, sudoku, and the code phrase. It was a good thing Minnie's mother didn't care for puzzles, because she was certain that her father would fight her for them. Now _that_ would be a way to start the day on the wrong foot.

Cereal and milk were already on the table, so Minnie collected a bowl and helped herself.

"They say this stuff causes cancer, you know?" Minnie said as she spooned several scoops of artificial sweeteners over her corn flakes. "We should start buying the real stuff."

"Oh, really?" her dad replied. "And who are 'they' exactly?"

Minnie should have known she would be called on this. "Real doctors?"

Minnie's dad went back to his morning coffee and puzzles without another word. What could he really say to that? Deep down, Minnie knew that term was a bit of a low blow, but she didn't know of any other way to describe the kind of doctor you went to for the flu as opposed to a tooth ache.

While Minnie was in the middle of slurping her cereal, Hermione wandered into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe and her hair still wild. She wasn't sure if they were still angry with each other over what had occurred last night. But that was hard to tell anyway. Hermione didn't make eye contact and wandered through the kitchen as though Minnie wasn't even there.

"Hermione!" Minnie's dad exclaimed. "Good morning! Did you sleep well last night?"

Hermione offered Minnie's dad a soft smile. "Very nice, thank you."

"Help yourself to some breakfast." Minnie's father pointed out the coffee, cereal, and fresh fruit that had been laid out. Hermione took a fresh cup of coffee and took a seat at the breakfast table, still managing to ignore Minnie, even though she was only one seat away.

"So, Hermione, what do you plan on doing today?" Minnie's dad asked their guest. "Will you just be relaxing around the house today? Monica and I can share a ride if there's somewhere you need to go and you need a car."

"Actually, rest sounds lovely," Hermione admitted, stretching her arms into the air and bending her back backwards against the back of the chair. "It was a terribly long flight, and I don't think I'm quite used to the time change."

At that point, Minnie's mum came out of the bathroom, fussing through her hair with her fingers, and adjusting her glasses on her nose.

"And, Her—Minnie," her mum corrected herself, "I'm walking you over to Mrs. Foster's. I'm not a hundred percent certain you can be trusted to make it there on your own."

The last thing she wanted was to be ushered over the old neighbor's house just so she could stare at the ceiling for eight hours. Not when she could do the exact same thing here at home. She hadn't even changed out of her pajamas yet.

"I'm ten years old, Mum! I'm too old to need a baby-sitter!"

But neither her mum nor her dad appeared very convinced of this statement. With no children before her, her parents had no idea what kids did at what age. Oh, the woes of being an only child!

"You're grounded, Minnie, remember?" her mum reminded her as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"And Hermione is here!" Minnie argued. "I won't really be home alone!"

"And I think you're missing the whole point of a punishment," her mother reminded her. "You're not supposed to enjoy it."

_Oh_, there were so many possible ways to answer that statement. "If I'm locked in my room all day, I won't enjoy myself anyway," she said, before thinking of something else to help her case. "And Mrs. Foster doesn't have any real food in her house! Yesterday, all I had to eat was a pack of Oreos!"

_That_ would most certainly cause her parents to have second thoughts. Not only was Minnie being starved, but the only food she did have access to was pure sugar.

Finally, Minnie's mum came to her decision. "Minnie really is just supposed to stay in her room all day," she told Hermione. "You wouldn't even know that she's here."

Hermione nodded, as though she agreed, but she still acted as though Minnie wasn't even in the room. From the tone of the conversation, Minnie could have been a parrot or a cat.

"Oh, Hermione! The bathroom is free now," Minnie's mum said, as though suddenly remembering. Hermione pushed herself away from the table, placing her coffee cup beside the sink as she walked past on her way to the bathroom. She still didn't look at Minnie, even as she left.

Minnie turned to her dad, stirring her bowl of fake-sugary milk. "Hermione's not really friendly, is she?"

Her father shrugged his shoulders, as though he did not think of it as such a big deal. "She's British. It's a culture thing."

Minnie wasn't quite sure she agreed with this explanation. "You and Mum are British too."

"Yes, well, we had eleven years to assimilate."

Minnie stared down into her bowl, debating whether or not to tell her parents about the interaction the two of them had shared last night. But her parents really seemed to like Hermione, and she was close to them. Besides, there was always a chance this could be turned around so that it was Minnie's fault, and already being grounded, she wasn't about to do anything that could get her into worse trouble.

From down the hall, through a series of walls, the Wilkens' heard a loud, sharp scream over the sound of running water.

"She met Chunga," Minnie remarked with a slight smirk on her lips, enjoying her newfound smugness once again.

No television, no computer, no leaving the house; she had to do something for entertainment.

* * *

Hermione's finding Chunga looking down at her from the shower head did not give a very lasting sense of joy. Now she was locked up in her bedroom and Chunga had been banished to his cage. Minnie's dad promised to bring her mice and every kind of feeder insect the pet store had during his lunch break so the lizard wouldn't starve. Although Minnie wasn't even sure if any of those were right. Even more so when lunchtime came and went, and Chunga had not touched any of the pet store food.

Then, while Minnie was laying on the bedroom floor with Spot-Spot balanced on her belly (she was fairly certain that there was no way she could get in trouble if Hermione stumbled upon a fuzzy bunny in the house), she heard a voice through the floorboards. Her mother and father were both miles away, scraping the teeth of the town's citizens, so it couldn't have been either of them. It could only be Hermione Weasley.

"Are you hearing this too?" she asked Spot-Spot.

Like with Chunga, Spot-Spot did not understand human words, but his ears did go straight up, showing he was definitely alert of something that was going on.

Just at the side of her bed, there was an air vent. With her rabbit still settled in her lap, Minnie slid across the floor and over to the vent. All she could hear were murmurs, but it was obvious that Hermione was in the guestroom. She listened harder, to see if she could pick even one recognizable word. But she still didn't hear a thing.

"It doesn't even sound like English." Minnie grabbed Spot-Spot and held one of his long ears down to the vent. "What about you? Can you hear anything?"

But still, Spot-Spot did nothing to make Minnie think he could actually understand what was going on. Then, a dull light glowed from the bottom of the air vent. Minnie certainly didn't need a rabbit to help her with that.

"No way!" Minnie breathed, picking up Spot-Spot and holding him off to the side so she could get a better look.

Suddenly a loud crack that made the floorboards vibrate caused Spot-Spot to leap out of her hands and race to the other end of the room. Even Minnie felt her heart jump with the floorboards. Like a scared animal herself, Minnie scrambled to her feet and rushed down the stairs while the animals were all making noise above her. Without stopping to consider her actions, Minnie poked her head through the open door and leaned out into the hallway, suddenly remembering she wasn't allowed to leave her room.

"Nice catch," she heard an increasingly familiar British accent say to her. And when Minnie turned her head, there she was, standing just outside the guestroom door, as though she had just been waiting for the girl to disobey her parents' orders.

"What are you doing, Minnie?" she asked in that condescending tone of hers, showing just how much she was enjoying this new power she held over her little enemy. "You're parents said you weren't to leave your room."

Minnie pointed down to her feet, which were still firmly planted on the bottom step. "The stairs are still technically part of my room."

Hermione nodded. "Fair enough. All the same, get back up the stairs.

But when Minnie didn't move, neither did Hermione. "Well?" the woman asked her.

Minnie was not about to play games, though. "So we're both just going to pretend we didn't hear that explosion just now?"

"What explosion?" Hermione asked.

"Don't be cute! I heard it; the floor shook! It made the animals crazy!"

"Alright, there was an explosion." As soon as she finished saying this, though, Hermione turned back to continue her way to the guestroom, as though she believed the conversation had come to an end. Granted, it technically had if she refused to talk.

"That's not admitting it!" Minnie shouted down the hallway, leaning out of the doorframe. "You're just saying that because you're trying to get me to shut up!"

Hermione walked into the guest room and shut the door behind her, knowing that Minnie wouldn't be able to follow her and press with more questions.

Unable to do anything else, Minnie let loose an intangible scream and kicked at the doorframe, which she regretted a few moments later as she sunk to the steps, nursing her injured toes.

* * *

Late at night, just after five, Minnie was still sitting in her room, tapping on Chunga's tank. He still hadn't eaten any of the things her dad had brought home at noon. The bugs hadn't interested him at all (not surprising, given he was such a large lizard), and the frozen mice were remaining ignored in the corner.

"Hi, Minnie," her dad said, surprising her that he was doing so well in remembering to use her not-so-new nickname. "How was your day?"

Continuing to stare into the tank, Minnie said. "Chunga's not eating."

"Here," her dad said, holding up a squeaking box toward his daughter. "Maybe some live prey will perk his appetite."

"Can't I just let him out of his cage?" Minnie pleaded. "He can find what he likes to eat on his own."

Minnie's dad shook his head. "Not if Chunga spends his days sneaking up on the houseguests."

"I'm not sure I like Hermione," Minnie said suddenly, though she kept staring into the tank making it seem almost as though she were saying this more to Chunga than to her father.

Minnie's dad took a seat beside her. "Really? Why is that?"

It was probably better to keep her reasoning a bit vague for now. "She's rude. She orders me around like she thinks she actually can. And she acts like I have some infectious disease, the way she always tries to stay away from me!"

Minnie's dad put a sympathetic hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'll admit it, Hermione can be a bit abrasive when you first meet her. It actually took your mother and I quite a while to get used to her when she first came here. But she really is a very lovely person. And I know you'd like her, and that she will like you. You just have to give her some time."

"Can't I let Chunga out?" Minnie tried once again, but her dad was shaking his head before she even finished the question.

"I promise to watch Chunga every second he's out," she tried to convince her father still. "And once I find out what it is that he eats, I'll keep him in the cage again."

"Minnie, just try the live mice," he begged, pushing the box into her hand. "I promise you, if Chunga is hungry enough, he _will_ eat."

And with that, Minnie's father made his way down the stairs, leaving her in the same state of isolation she had spent the whole day in.

Five little white mice scrambled over one another, beady red eyes surveying the scene around them. It was hard to decide which one would be the one to go first. After she picked the first victim, she wondered if the other mice would notice he was gone, and then if she could just hide the box under her bed and tell her dad that Chunga hadn't wanted them. Then, she reminded herself of the food chain, and that in nature, animals ate other animals for survival all the time. She had yet to give up eating meat herself, so she could hardly ask Chunga to go without it.

"Sorry, mousie," she said to the rodent squirming in her hands, "but you might be a staple of Chunga's diet." She opened the tank and stuck her hand and the mouse inside.

Holding the little albino creature by its tail, Minnie dangled it in front of Chunga's face, occasionally bumping it into his nose, hoping that he would be somewhat more desperate for food than he had been earlier that afternoon.

After fifteen minutes of effort, Minnie quit worrying if her fingers were going to get bitten off, and she glanced over her shoulder and down the staircase. She couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment towards the new houseguest because of this slight. She had been grounded because of her, Chunga couldn't leave his tank because of her, and as though that wasn't bad enough, this woman was taking every opportunity to taunt Hermione, like a little kid poking a caged animal with a stick.

It was almost enough to make Hermione wish for school to start just so she could spend at least part of her day away from Hermione Weasley.

But not quite.


	4. Chapter 3 Strange Behavior

Chapter 3  
Strange Behavior

Weekends were normally a quiet, rather spontaneous affair. Not this weekend, though. With a house guest from out of the country, Minnie's mother had been researching every tourist attraction that they could possibly drive to. It even seemed to work out for Minnie as well, as she had been granted a pardon from her grounding to be able to go with Hermione and her mother that weekend. Today, her mother had planned on taking Hermione to see, and seeing as Monica Wilkens was hardly one to go hiking, climbing over rocks, or snorkeling in the open ocean, Minnie would be tagging along to play tour guide.

Minnie's parents seemed to have forgotten all about her being grounded. Sure, she hadn't gotten her computer back, but no one said a word when she turned on the telly last night, and today, she would be going out sightseeing with her mother and Hermione.

"C'mon, Chunga," she pleaded, dangling the squirming mouse in front of his face, "please eat."

It had been three days, and Chunga had not eaten any of the things her dad had brought to feed him: crickets, mealworms, white mice, processed chemical food. Minnie had even tried to get more creative with his feedings, trying fish sticks, cherry sours, even her mother's cold cream. Chunga wasn't having any of it. And yesterday, when she had let him out of his cage to run around her room at least, he wouldn't move an inch from where he had been set down.

"Minnie, are you up and ready?" she heard her dad knocking on the door. "Your mum and Hermione are going to want to leave soon, so if you want breakfast, you better hurry!"

Minnie sighed and dropped the mouse to the bottom of the tank. If the little creature hadn't been eaten by now, it would surely be safe for a few moments while she ate her own breakfast.

Racing down the same two sets of stairs she did every morning, Minnie jumped the last step to the living room and ran the rest of the way to the kitchen. Just like her dad said, Minnie's mum and Hermione were already at the table, clad in shorts and hiking boots, looking as though they were ready to explore the world, with Minnie, no doubt, playing their guide. Both women were each tucking away at a hearty breakfast, so Minnie grabbed her own cereal, feeling she was very much going to need it.

"Good morning, Minnie," her mother greeted her, far more energetic than she was used to seeing her. "How are you doing today?"

"Chunga's still not eating the mice," she announced to the breakfast table. "We better stop by the pet store and get a cage, because if Chunga doesn't eat them by tonight, I'm going to name them and start bonding with them."

Minnie watched her mother's jaw clench, but she was not quite sure if it was about her starving lizard or at the thought of more animals (or pests) living under the house.

"Maybe Chunga's entering a sort of hibernation," Hermione suggested over her coffee cup. "Reptiles don't eat as much when that happens."

"It's summer!" Minnie shouted across the breakfast table, rising up with both palms flat on the table. "And Chunga lives indoors, and this is Australia! When was the last time it was cold enough here for _anything_ to hibernate?"

"Minnie," her mother warned under her breath.

Keeping in mind her still pending grounding, Minnie sunk back down into her chair to sulk with her cereal. Minnie's mum and Hermione Weasley went back to their planning and the broachers they had spread over the breakfast table. Minnie snorted at them, but quietly enough so that the two women did not hear her. Planning, broachers, guides; that was no way to see the world! If you really wanted to experience anything, you just strapped on your shoes and jumped right in. Of course, knowing her mother, and having a fairly good idea of what kind of person Hermione was, Minnie had a feeling she was not going to convince anyone of that today.

The second Minnie finished slurping the last of her milk out of the bowl, her mother stood to her feet, clapping her hands together. "Alright, ladies, let's move on out!"

The two older women marched towards the entryway while Minnie slumped behind them, only just now beginning to realize what kind of day she was likely to be in for.

"Just a sec, Mum," Minnie said suddenly, rushing back toward the staircase. "I forgot to brush my bottom teeth."

Minnie's mother didn't say anything, too distracted by her own plans for the day, but she did nod, informing Minnie that she was free to leave. Permission granted, the girl raced back to the staircase, nearly falling about three times as she climbed.

In reality, Minnie's parents had drilled the importance of brushing since she first had teeth, never allowing her an opportunity to miss brushing any of them, but she also knew it would be the best excuse to use so that her mother would allow her back upstairs. Instead, however, when she reached the second floor, Minnie opened the door to the attic steps, climbed up to her room, and opened the top of the tank resting at the foot of her bed.

"Alright, Chunga," she said, lifting the lizard out of its tank and carrying him down the stairs, draped over her shoulder. "I don't know what you eat, and I don't think either of us are going to live long enough to find out."

Minnie jumped the last step, as she often did, holding what she believed to be the lizard's ear up to her lips.

"So you're getting let out so you can feed yourself," she told him, setting him down on the floor. "Just make sure that big…big-_ger_ Hermione doesn't see you."

"Minnie," she heard called from the outside. She hadn't even noticed that her mother and Hermione had gone outside.

"Coming!" Minnie shouted, turning back to wave at the still-motionless lizard. "Bye, Chunga!"

Again, Minnie spoke to the lizard as though she actually believed it could understand her. She almost found the urge to laugh at herself as she went out the front door to join her fellow explorers.

* * *

"Well, it will be nothing like the coral formations up north," Minnie's mum explained as she drove over the curvy road. "Victoria's much too cold for the types you'd see at the Great Barrier Reef, but there is still some."

Minnie was alone in the backseat. Every time her mother didn't have an answer to one of these questions, she would gesture back to Minnie, having her answer instead, and then the pattern would be put right on track once again. Minnie's parents attended a dental conference in Sydney once a year; one that was attended by the same doctors and held in the same hotel every year. It was usual enough that Minnie had been able to make casual friends with children of other dentists who were brought along as well. A good deal of these friends lived in the more northern regions of Australia and would always make a point to tell Minnie how miserably cold Victoria was compared to New South Wales or Queensland. Of course, her mother was right that the exotic, tropical reefs would not be seen on this expedition, but that certainly didn't mean there was nothing to see.

"I forgot my snorkeling things," Minnie suddenly remembered. "And Mum, you don't have things to snorkel at all, and neither does Hermione."

Minnie wasn't sure why she said that, as though it had the smallest chance of ending in Minnie being taken back home. "We'll get fins and snorkels from the rental shop," she assured her daughter

Minnie scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue, gagging. "I hate the rental shop! The guy who works there has freaky eyes!"

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Minnie's crude remark. The ten-year-old decided to elaborate.

"They're turned like they're the opposite of being cross-eyed, and one of them is all milky and there's a scar from his eyebrow down to his cheek."

Hermione snorted in a haughty sort of way, shaking her head at Minnie's description. But that quickly changed as soon as they arrived at the rental hut and Hermione actually met Eddie, the milky-eyed snorkel gear rental…person. Hermione had tried not to stare, but Minnie could tell that she was disturbed by the eyes, just as much as Minnie was. Especially when, just as always, Eddie did everything he could to keep the three of them there as long as possible. Not that Minnie couldn't understand why. The poor man was probably lonely. Minnie doubted she was the only one who tried to get away from the rental station as soon as they came.

Minnie's mother, however, paid for their rental gear and left as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on, ignoring the demeanors of the two younger ladies beside her. She also ignored Hermione's confusion when she only paid for two sets of snorkeling gear.

"Mum doesn't really like the ocean," Minnie explained as she helped to load the gear in the trunk. "Dad and I got her to go snorkeling with us once; a fish swam up against her leg, and she swam to shore in like four seconds."

Once in the car again, more curved roads took them to Bunurong Marine Park. And displaying the fact that Minnie's mother would not be joining them again today, she laid out a beach blanket on the sand and extracted a paperback from her straw bag. Just because Minnie's mother was taking her guest on an Australian adventure did not mean that she actually planned on experiencing the 'adventure' part herself. That left it completely up to Minnie to serve as guide for the mysteries of the semi-deep.

Being born and raised on the coastline had taught Minnie that it was more or less impossible for even the most experienced snorkeler to walk with any amount of grace once their fins were on. Minnie knew she probably looked ridiculous herself, but that did not stop her internal laughter as she watched Hermione stumble her way across the beach with all the majesty of a drunk walrus.

The water was barely up to her knees when Minnie dove under, her still unprotected eyes shut tight against the salt water. By the time she came up for air, there was at least three yards of distance between her and Hermione, who was up to her waist and still had yet to dunk her head under the water. She held herself in a very stiff sort of posture with her elbows at her sides, her arms up, and her fingers spread as though it would stop any small creature who might jump out of the water and attack at any moment. Minnie could easily recognize it because she had seen the exact same posture on her mother whenever she went in the water, or tall grass, or a freshly sprinkled lawn in her bare feet.

"Alright, you might want to practice standing in the water before you start swimming," Minnie told her after she swam back to Hermione. "It's pretty simple: you put your face in the water and breathe through your mouth, but not when you go underwater! That's very important! And make sure your mask is on tight, or else water will leak in, and salt will get in your eyes, and you'll be blind."

While Hermione was contemplating the instructions given to her, Minnie took the opportunity to swim away while she still went unnoticed.

"Where are you going?" Hermione stopped her.

"Hey, I don't need to practice! I'm going snorkeling," Minnie said, kicking away, her fins creating a less than unintentional splash. "Don't worry! I'll be right here if you need me."

Of course, 'right here' would be fairly liberally defined. Minnie certainly wasn't going to see anything interesting in such shallow water. You might see a few minnow-type fish an inch or so below the surface, but the truly fascinating creatures were in the deep waters of the Bunurong Marine Park.

The water was unusually bare today. Normally, Minnie would see dull gray bass or schools of minnows; nothing spectacular, but still living, breathing life. Today, the ocean was completely still, even the rolling waves above seemed quiet, as though they were more interested in catching light than making noise.

Suddenly, Minnie felt the water level at her feet pulling at her slightly. When she looked down, she saw a large, dark mass rising up from the depths, opening its large mouth very wide. It was a basking shark! They came to the southern Australian coast every summer, but with the season almost over, Minnie had thought they had already left. But at least this one was still here and Minnie was happy to see it. She had never seen one of these creatures in real life, and she was pretty sure she would be the only student at Wonthaggi Primary, and possibly North Primary too, who had ever seen one of these.

What Minnie really wanted to do was swim down so she could see right into its mouth. One of Minnie's friends, Nicole, had said more than once that she was afraid of these sharks, even though their teacher told them again and again that basking sharks only ate plankton. What Nicole was afraid of was that a shark would be swimming along, and it would swallow a person whole before the creature knew what it was doing. Minnie wanted to look into the creature's mouth and look down its throat to see if that was even possible.

Luckily for Minnie, basking sharks fed close to the surface, so she wasn't cut off from the oxygen supply provided by her snorkel. It was a wonderfully large specimen, nearly the size of a bus. Every so often, it would open its gaping mouth to feed, making it look all the more prehistoric. Still, she couldn't get herself to a suitable place so she could see inside its mouth. Maybe if she could grab a hold of its fin, she could simply drag along with it until it made a turn, then she could dive down further to look into its mouth.

Sucking in a deep gulp of air, Minnie dunked her head down into the water and kicked her fins up in the air.

Suddenly, Minnie felt herself being dragged backwards through the water by her shoulder straps, almost as though she had been snagged by a speedboat. Except that this was a national park, and people most certainly were not allowed to take random boats out into the water, especially where people went snorkeling. She soon found herself pulled to the surface, and she came up sputtering and gasping from breath, more out of shock than a real need for oxygen.

When she finally slowed to a stop, Minnie noticed that she came to rest right beside Hermione, who was extremely frantic, more so than Minnie had ever seen a person in her life.

"We have to get out of the water!" she shouted, grabbing at Minnie's shoulders and kicking wildly to stay afloat. "There's a shark!"

When Minnie looked out onto the water, she was beginning to understand why Hermione was so paranoid. Not fifteen feet away, the basking shark's large dorsal fin was poking up out of the water, moving in slow circles in a way the was oddly reminiscent of the _Jaws_ movies. It most certainly could be terrifying…for someone who had no idea of what kinds of creatures _did_ live off the coast.

"I _know_, Hermione," Minnie replied, annoyed. "It's a basking shark. It doesn't eat people, and it's certainly not going to hurt _us_."

Hermione's eyes were wide to the point where they were perfectly round as she watched the circling dorsal fin. "It's giant!"

"But not dangerous!" Minnie tried to tell her. "People go snorkeling with these animals all the time."

Hermione remained unconvinced. "It could knock you around with that tail like a housefly!" she argued. "We're going back to shore!"

Well, _that_ was certainly the last thing in the world Minnie wanted to do. Minnie wanted to get closer to the shark, maybe catch a ride on its dorsal fin like she had heard older snorkelers claim they had done. And really, _really_ wanted to find out if it was possible for a basking shark to swallow a human being. But she was also convinced that if she didn't do as Hermione Weasley said, the woman would swim back to shore, inform Minnie's mother that her only child was swimming in shark-infested waters, and then she would have the Australian Navy to deal with.

Yes, it was all-around just easier to go back to shore and hope to see the basking sharks next summer. Or the summer after that…or after that.

Minnie was sure she was a stronger swimmer than this British woman, but she was also certain that if she did try to escape and Hermione went back to shore and told her mother on her, her mum would have a heart attack right there on the sand. Relenting, Minnie swam alongside Hermione back to the shore, and learned for a fact that she really was the stronger swimmer of the two, from how incredibly easy it was to keep up with Hermione's slow-set pace.

When the two of them waddled back onto shore, struggling to take off their fins as they stood, Minnie's mother looked up from her paperback. "What's going on?" she asked, marking her place by bending the corner on the top of her page. "You two were barely out there for twenty minutes."

"We had to get out," Hermione told her, gasping for breath. "There was a shark in the water."

Minnie suppressed a groan as she watched her mother turn five shades paler in less than three seconds. "A _shark_?"

"Basking shark, Mum," Minnie clarified. "Plankton shark, plankton shark. Oh, I wish I'd had a camera with me!"

But when frightened, Minnie's mother was never one to listen to reason, especially when it was coming from a ten-year-old. She herded the little girl and the young British woman, barefoot all the way up the path to the car without a tangible word or stopping to go back for anything they hadn't left behind. Minnie felt thankful for the small favor that she had brought anything with her to the shore.

"Why did we have to leave?" Minnie asked finally, after they had spent about five minutes on the road. "We wasted a perfectly good day!"

Minnie's mother shook her head and nearly convulsed. Minnie was surprised the violent reaction didn't send the car off the side of the road. "Minnie! There was a SHARK in that water!"

"_Plankton_ shark!" Minnie emphasized once again. "There are people out there who would have considered swimming with a basking shark a once in a lifetime experience."

Minnie's mother, however, did still not look convinced. "And now that you've had _your_ once in a lifetime experience, we're going into town where it's safe!"

"There are poisonous snakes that sometimes hide in the town garden plots," Minnie reminded her mum, even though she wasn't quite sure why she did, because all it accomplished was having her mother decide that instead, they were going to spend the afternoon taking a car ride, where she could run over anything that might have posed a danger to them. Not content to spend her entire afternoon with her legs sticking to the car seat, Minnie instead decided to stay quiet and allow her mother a few moments to calm down.

But she couldn't resist getting in one more potentially upsetting question. "Can a person actually be swallowed by a basking shark?"

The car swerved slightly once again, and Minnie's mum took a deep breath in through her nose. "You can ask your teacher when school starts up again."

Minnie reclined against the back of the car seat and waited for her mother's nervous breakdown to pass, hoping for good songs on the radio.

* * *

Minnie threw the front door open and was the first of the women to storm into the house. Minnie had pouted the entire car ride home, making sure to keep a constant glare on Hermione, even though she wasn't completely sure the British houseguest had even noticed. She knew Hermione was responsible for yanking her away from the basking shark, even if she couldn't prove it. And even if she didn't know how she had managed to do it from fifteen feet away.

"Hi, girls," Minnie heard her dad say from out on the patio. "How was the ocean?"

Minnie watched her mother race to follow the voice so she could tell her husband _exactly_ what their daughter had been up to today. As soon as she was gone, Minnie actually did turn and glare at Hermione face to face.

"I'm sorry for making your mother such a nervous wreck," she finally apologized to Minnie, when she at last saw how angry the young girl was, "but even if that shark you saw wasn't a meat-eater, it still probably isn't a good idea to get so close to such a large creature."

But Minnie wasn't ready to listen to whatever reason Hermione Weasley might have had for dragging her away from the amazing creature.

"I don't like you," she said plainly.

Hermione sighed and shook her head in exasperation, following Minnie partway up the stairs.

"Minnie, I was just like you when I was young," she said to her.

Minnie snorted. "I doubt that!"

"It's the truth," Hermione argued, only to have Minnie roll her eyes at her.

"I mean that I was always finding myself in situations where I could have gotten myself killed." Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet, becoming more anxious the longer she spoke. "We have a lot more in common than you might think."

_That_ was something Minnie could simply not accept. "You're from Britain! What could you have possibly done for _that_ to happen?"

Hermione seemed a bit insulted by that remark, but Minnie couldn't help it. No instantly poisonous snakes or spiders, no dingoes or emus, and no meat-eating sharks or box jellyfish. What could there possibly be on that island that could kill someone? "You would be shocked."

"Try me," Minnie challenged, waiting for the woman to begin listing off all these near-death situations she bragged about. Hermione stared off to the side, but said nothing.

"I knew it!" Minnie sneered at being lied to. And before Hermione would say anything else to her, Minnie stomped up the stairs and locked herself safely in her attic. At the very least, she knew her animals wouldn't do anything that could surprise her.

But speaking of animals, on her way up the steps, she suddenly remembered she still didn't have anywhere for her new pet mice to live. Minnie nearly kicked her foot against the wall before stopping herself, remembering exactly how much help it had done the last time.

* * *

Spot-Spot was sleeping, and so was Chunga. Bidgie and Bickie, however, were both wide awake and keeping vigilant, right alongside Minnie. It was very late at night, well past eleven, and both her parents had gone to sleep ages ago. She wondered if Hermione went to bed this early as well. She was on vacation, so it didn't make sense that she would obey a strict bedtime. She was an adult, though. She wouldn't have to do that if she didn't want to anyway.

Why was she even devoting any time to thinking about the woman anyway, when it only did more to agitate her? Even Mrs. Foster who starved her and her third grade teacher who had called Minnie a half-wild suburban savage who should run away and join the Aborigines had not earned this amount of the girl's attention.

Minnie needed something to take her mind off the houseguest.

Minnie fell backwards against her bed, bouncing about four inches in the air as soon as she landed. It was slightly amusing, so she sat up and began bouncing where she sat, which soon led to her climbing to her feet and making small jumps on the bed. It didn't take very long, however, before Minnie was bouncing at least two feet into the air with every jump, laughing and gasping for breath. It was easier for her to understand why jumping on the bed proved such a tempting idea for little children, but less easy for her to understand why she had ever stopped.

Taking a momentary break to catch her breath, Minnie jumped to the floor and raced towards her radio. She fiddled with the knobs for tuning and volume until she finally found a very loud Hannah Montana song and cranked up the sound as loud as she could stand it. The animals all woke up and started voicing their complaints. Minnie was sure everyone in the house could hear her, though she now wasn't sure her parents were even inside. _They_ most certainly weren't doing anything to stop the noise.

Over the music, Minnie vaguely heard the sound of tapping on the floor. It was then that she remembered that her bed rested directly over the guestroom and Hermione was probably listening to every noise she made. Minnie reached over to her nightstand and turned the music up louder before she began jumping once again, at a much more vigorous pace.

The music got faster and so did the jumping, Minnie's heart racing at what must have been a thousand beats per minute. And through the floor, Hermione was still knocking against the ceiling, trying to put a stop to the racket. This only succeeded in making Minnie jump up and down even harder, and even started singing along with the music. It was this horribly happy, sugary, bubblegum pop song that, normally, Minnie couldn't stand, but if it was something that annoyed Hermione, she was willing to put up with it.

It was horribly petty, but Minnie still had a few more years for such an attitude to still be acceptable.

Suddenly, Minnie came down on her last jump a lot hard than she expected, her song turning to screaming, and Minnie landing flat on her back.

"MINNIE!"

Despite her heavy disorientation, Minnie forced herself to look up and see who had called her name. It was Hermione, standing on top of a chair, her fist hovering just below the ceiling. Minnie pushed herself to sit up a bit and surveyed her surroundings. She was lying on a bed, but it was not her bed. This bedspread was the boring, hotel room-style stripe pattern that the guestroom bed had. In fact, upon further examination, Minnie became certain that she was in the guestroom.

"Wha-what?" Minnie stammered.

Hermione stared at her, eyes wide, with her back against the wall. "You fell through the ceiling!"

Minnie was confused. "I fell through a hole?"

"No hole," Hermione clarified. "You fell _through_ the ceiling!"

Minnie, at first, was convinced she was being lied to, until her eyes drifted upward to where she was able to see some evidence proving Hermione's claim. There was her quilt, hanging unevenly above her as though it had been pulled through a very fine crack. Listening to Hermione, it easily appeared as through Minnie had dragged part of the quilt down with her, but it had gotten stuck as soon as Minnie was through. As soon as Minnie saw this sight, her fingers clenched at the comforter below her.

"What do we do?" Minnie asked, somewhat stunned by it all.

Hermione rushed forward, keeping her eyes up at the ceiling. "We get rid of any evidence before Mum and Dad see it, that's what."

From one of the dresser drawers, Hermione pulled a wooden rod; one of the interesting objects Minnie had seen in Hermione's suitcase when she first arrived and she had gotten in trouble for trying to touch. And down the quilt came, dropping over Minnie's head.

The quilt barely rested over Minnie's head for a moment before she began clawing at it like a wild animal, and came out gasping for breath.

"You did this! I knew it!" Minnie shrieked, not sharing Hermione's concern over her parents noticing anything they weren't supposed to. "You caused that explosion I heard, you pulled me away from the shark, and you made me fall through the ceiling!"

Hermione sighed in a resigned sort of way. "The first two, yes; but that last one was all on your own."

There she was going again, lying to her. "So you _didn't_ just make my quilt drop from my bedroom?"

"Yes, I did that to," Hermione said slowly, clarifying. "I'm talking about you going through the ceiling!"

Minnie chewed at the inside of her cheek, trying to contemplate exactly what she was going to say next. She knew _she_ hadn't done anything to make this happen, but she didn't think that Hermione would have any more idea of it than she did.

"It was magic, Minnie," Hermione told her in a tone that felt far too calm for what had just happened. "Natural, uncontrolled magic that every child like you experiences at your age. And I don't think this is the first time, either."

Minnie stared up at the British woman, feeling her eyes go as wide as five-cent coins.

"You're a witch, Minnie," Hermione said plainly. "The kind that's born to parents who aren't. I know because we are exactly alike, in more ways than you think."

_A witch?_ As in, broom flying under a yellow moon with a pointy hat and a black cat? Granted, Minnie had no explanation for it either, but her being a witch was most certainly _not_ the answer!

"You're insane!" Minnie screeched, scrambling backwards on the bed. "The minute I tell my parents about what you just said, you'll be on a plane back to Britain so fast, your head will spin!"

"They're my parents too!" Hermione blurted out in an uncomposed way that sounded as though she hadn't meant to.

The room went dead silent. Even the springs in the mattress went completely still. Neither Minnie nor Hermione knew what to say to follow that last statement.

"What?" Minnie finally was able to gasp, even though no part of her was ready to hear whatever it was that this woman had to say.

"Wendell and Monica Wilkens used to be John and Jean Granger," Hermione Weasley nee Granger explained slowly, "and they're my parents."


	5. Chapter 4 Truth be Told

**Chapter 4**  
**Truth Be Told**

Hermione stared at her little sister laying agape on the bed. It's not that she was planning on keeping this a secret from Minnie forever. Logically, she would have found out eventually, when Hermione restored her parents' memories. She just had hoped to do it with a little more tact, sensitivity, and grace.

To say the little girl's current state of shock was understandable was certainly an understatement. Hermione could recall how utterly shocked she had been when the woman she would come to know as Professor McGonagall came to her door with her Hogwarts letter and her tales of the wizarding world; Hermione had not been able to make herself calm for more than a week after that. Combining that with Minnie so suddenly learning of the blood relation they shared, it was a miracle the girl hadn't fainted! Hermione had known of the girl's existence for more than ten years, and she was _still_ having difficulty seeing her as her sister.

Hermione had been able to easily find the house that her parents had called home since they had arrived in Australia, and she had still been able to recognize her parents, even with the extra grey hairs and wrinkles. And they, in turn, recognized Hermione in an instant, though not as their firstborn daughter, as Hermione had hoped. They had, however, invited Hermione to stay at their home the way they had when she had last come ten years ago, so at least it was a start. It would be that much easier to lay the groundwork for restoring their memories.

But having her little sister be in on the secret was certainly going to gum up the works.

It certainly wasn't as though Hermione had forgotten that she _had_ a little sister. She spent much of the very necessary time the plane ride had given her preparing herself for that fact. Despite all this, it was still somewhat of a shock to have Hermione Wilkens go from being an infant to a ten-year-old child in her mind's eye.

Now all that was left was how Minnie would come to view Hermione.

Slowly, cautiously, the younger girl pushed herself up into a seated position. "Y-you," she stammered, "a-are my sister?" Minnie stared up at Hermione in the manner of someone eyeing a poisonous snake.

"Yes, Minnie," Hermione remarked a bit too snidely. "That's generally what the English language calls two girls who share the same parents."

Caution ended, and Minnie practically leapt to her feet, still standing on the covers, her quilt rumpled around her.

"Then how come I've never heard of you?" the girl demanded. "And why would Mum and Dad name _me_ Hermione if they already had a daughter named that? If Hermione _is_ your real name!"

_Oh, yes; this was where things were going to start getting truly complicated._

"Our parents don't remember me because I cast a spell to make sure they wouldn't," Hermione tried to explain. "It was a long time ago, and the reason why is far too complicated to go into right now, but I can assure you, I am telling the truth. Your parents used to be called John and Jean Granger, and I am their daughter, Hermione Granger."

"A likely story!" Minnie jumped from the bed down to the floor and began pacing in front of Hermione. Hermione's eyes went wide after blinking back surprise. The girl had just learned of the existence of magic, and _this_ was what she was suspicious of?

Of course, Hermione wondered if her sister was still somewhat indoctrinated by the image that children's fairy tales put forth about witches. Even though Hermione didn't have the classic green skin or hooked nose, it was easy to see how Minnie still might think witches were not to be trusted, if she even believed in witches at all.

On some level, though, Hermione had been preparing herself for this possible conversation, and she went into it knowing exactly what to use as evidence.

"Dad has more than likely seen a friend of yours with a loose tooth, and tried to yank it out himself so he wouldn't have to deal with it at work," Hermione contemplated the details of her parents' lives. "Mum has bad knees, but she refuses to go on arthritis medication. She takes herbal supplements, but they don't work."

But this was still not enough to bring Minnie to believe her. "You're friends with them," she spat. "The fact that you know that doesn't prove anything!"

But Hermione had a fair amount of evidence in her possession that might help to convince her sister otherwise. Striding over to her suitcase stashed in the corner, she retrieved a parcel hidden within the folds of a few of her warmer articles of clothing. It was a small album; old, and certainly worn. Before even returning to show it to Minnie, Hermione opened the album herself, brushing her fingertips over the old photographs. The page she had opened to showed a collection of photographs from the first days of school from her primary school years; her parents each standing by her side in all of them. Despite being quite younger, there was no denying that the couple smiling beside a small Hermione were the same couple now known as Wendell and Monica Wilkens.

Finally, Hermione made her way over to the younger girl at the side of the bed, flipping the album back to the front page before handing it over to the little girl. Carefully, Minnie took the album from Hermione's hands and held it up close to her face. A surprised expression showed that the girl did indeed recognize the younger versions of her parents. She began to flip through the rest of the book, becoming more and more frantic as she progressed. Every now and then, she would shift her gaze back up to Hermione with a critical expression, as though trying to make out the most miniscule details of Hermione's face to see if they match the little girl seen photographed with her parents. Each time Minnie did so, however, she only seemed to be faced with more and more proof that what Hermione was saying was true.

At long last, Minnie closed the album carefully and set it on the covers of the bed behind her, and then looked back up to meet Hermione's gaze. With the revealed secret, Minnie's eyes had grown quite wide. There was no way that Hermione could have faked such old-looking photographs, especially the smaller Polaroid pictures. Minnie was finally convinced.

She swayed back and forth on her feet, as though not quite sure whether to back away against the bed, or come closer. "So," Minnie said slowly, "you're _really_ my sister?"

Hermione nodded. The ten-year-old in front of her shifted nervously from side to side, but truth be told, Hermione felt quite uncomfortable in the current situation herself, despite the fact the truth was finally off her chest.

Finally, curiosity gave in, and Minnie stepped closer, standing on her tiptoes to look Hermione in the eyes, although the little girl seemed somewhat guarded. "But…you're so old."

Hermione couldn't help but scowl at the remark. She wasn't that old; not to the point where she would imagine lying about her age, but she could understand what Minnie was trying to say. The two of them being nearly twenty years apart in age, it was hard to conceive of them being born from the same parents (_that_ was a horribly unintentional pun!)

"So are our parents," Hermione replied. "Surely you've notice that they're a lot older than the parents of most of you friends."

Minnie chewed on her bottom lip, but nodded softly, acknowledging that she knew that Hermione was right.

"So…how come I've never heard of you?" the little girl ventured. "And what's this about a _spell_?"

Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief for one small victory tonight. At the very least, it seemed like the girl believed her at least somewhat when it came to the truth about magic. Of course, now that her younger sister finally _did_ believe that magic existed, there was the matter of telling her a very long, very complicated, and very bloody story.

There was something unsettling about telling such a small child about such a horrific time in history, but still, there was no way Hermione would be able to explain their current circumstances without telling her sister the full story. She, Harry, and all the others had gone through the exact same thing with Teddy years before, when he had begun asking why he didn't have a Mummy and Daddy like all his friends. Teddy was her best friend's godson, but telling this to her own sister was far more different, despite the fact on an emotional level, she still didn't quite feel that the two of them were sisters.

As Hermione began the story, Minnie leaned back against the bed, thoughtful eyes taking in every detail of the story her older sister told her.

"So many of my friends had the Death Eaters…the bad guys," Hermione clarified, "going after their parents as a way of getting to people. I was so afraid they would do the same to my parents, and I was willing to do anything to keep them safe."

Hermione found herself looking down and fidgeting with her fingers, in the manner of a guilty child, as she moved on to tell the next part of the story.

"So, about a month before my eighteenth birthday, I went to my—_our_—parents home; I cast an Memory Charm on them, and planted new memories into their minds. Memories that told them they were Wendell and Monica Wilkens, it was their life's dream to move to Australia, and, most importantly, that they didn't have any children. It was the best way I knew to keep them out of the grasps of war, and how I _knew_ they would be safe.

"But as soon as the war was over, I was determined to get my family back. I went straight to Australia; I was fully intent on lifting the spell, but by then, nearly a year had past and our parents were more than settled here in Victoria. And, of course…" Hermione hesitated with her next words, "our mother was pregnant with you."

Hermione could see that the little girl in front of her had become slightly more interested in the story now that she herself was being mentioned in it.

"I did everything I could to make them remember me," Hermione went off again. "I couldn't very well cast any spells on my mother while she was pregnant. Any witch or wizard could tell that any spell cast on a pregnant woman could have horrendous effects on the infant. So, I sought out other means of recovering their memories. Everything I had read and everything I had been told by St. Mungo's Healers said that if I kept reminding them about details of their former lives, recreate scenarios that had happened in my childhood, eventually the constant assault on their consciousness would trigger their suppressed memories and the wards on the spell would eventually shatter."

"It's taken you that long?" Minnie remarked with a raised eyebrow. "You're not a very good witch, are you?"

"I happen to be a highly skilled witch!" Hermione exclaimed, this time being genuinely insulted. "I originally cast this spell so that if anything were to happen to me in all the conflict, my parents would never even remember that they had a daughter! That is exactly why it is such a difficult spell to break!"

Minnie huffed under her breath, clearly unconvinced. Despite the slight blow to her ego, Hermione did her best to continue on with her story as calmly and collected as she could.

"Nothing I tried seemed to work. Eventually, I knew I was in over my head and I went back to England. I couldn't spend the rest of my life trying to break such a powerful spell with only the meager understanding I had of how to break a Memory Charm. So, as I built a life for myself, I continued my study of Memory Charms, reading everything I could get my hands on, listening to anyone who would stand still long enough."

Hermione's longwinded story might have gone on further if Minnie hadn't seemed to come into a very confrontational mood and rush up and stand on her tiptoes to look her dead in the eyes.

"You must not have missed them that much," the little girl snapped loudly, accusingly, "if you took such sweet time to come back for them!"

Hermione found herself taking a few unintentional steps back towards the wall, confused. First, Minnie was afraid of Hermione, and now she was angry at her. Did this little girl need to be put on some sort of medication?

But for as startled as Hermione was by the sudden change in emotion, she was also quite angry. Had this girl even been _listening_ when Hermione had told her that she had done what she did to keep their parents safe? That is, if Hermione had not cast this spell, there was a good chance that their parents would have been killed and that Minnie herself would not exist? Hermione had tried to do her best to keep the even temper in this conversation, but now she was quickly losing that battle.

"The fact that _you_ came along most certainly didn't help anything!" she shouted suddenly. "Even if I did stay and continued to fight a futile battle. Even if by some miracle I had been able to make them remember me just after you were born, what good would it have done? A new baby, along with all these sudden recovered memories? I would be surprised if the pure shock of it all didn't drive them mad! And so I left, because I knew that if I waited until you were older and didn't need Mummy and Daddy for every little thing, it would all be easier for everyone."

"Who knows? Maybe if you hadn't been born at all, what I came here knowing about lifting memory spells might have done something if I had been able to work at it a bit longer!"

Minnie's previous brazen attitude all but disappeared as she shrunk back from the shrieking woman, creating a picture so pitiful that anyone who walked into the room at that moment would have known in an instant whose side to take. And Hermione felt an instant rush of guilt. Minnie cringed back as though she was afraid she might get hit, fist clenched underneath her chin, shuffling back towards a corner of the room. All of a sudden, the little girl seemed so much smaller and more vulnerable than the bold little creature and who went chasing after sharks who had been screaming in Hermione's face just moments ago.

"Minnie, I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, her hand to her forehead. "I just—emotions are running a bit high right now, for the both of us."

Minnie nodded, conveying that she understood, but her bottom lip was trembling slightly, betraying the fact that she was still somewhat troubled by her older sister's outburst.

"Come." Hermione walked past Minnie and took a seat on the bed, patting the area beside her. "Sit down. We'll talk."

Despite the fact that the little girl was still clearly unsure of her motive, she made her way to the bed and took a seat beside her sister. Although, she kept her gaze directly in front of her, not making eye contact with Hermione.

"This is a bit strange for you and me both," Hermione told her, keeping in mind to keep their physical contact to a minimum, at least for now. "I know the idea of getting back a family that's so different from the one I grew up with is overwhelming for me, and I've had ten years to get used to the idea."

Hermione giggled slightly, but she was alone in this. Although, Minnie did finally look up to make eye contact with her sister.

"Big brothers and sisters always have a hard time dealing with the fact that they're parents have a new baby. And I tell you, it is much worse to deal with at my age!"

This time, Minnie joined in the laughing too. She even leaned over to rest her head on Hermione's shoulder.

"I suppose it will take both of us time to get used to this," Hermione admitted, subconsciously reaching over to smooth the little girl's hair. "But I've met a lot of children who are much more horrific than you turned out to be. I suppose I got off easy in that facet.

Now, Minnie appeared much more at ease, relaxing completely against her sister's side.

"So, what did you learn in ten years that's going to help you this time?" she asked suddenly.

"A great deal," Hermione told her, "but it's mostly just a lot of different versions of what I knew about Memory Charms when I first came here. I am hoping, though, if I just keep at it even more vigorously this time, it will work."

"Will you need my help?"

Hermione looked down at her little sister. "Hmm?"

Minnie explained, "Two people working at lifting a spell instead of one is certainly more vigorous. And what you tried before doesn't really seem like it used a lot of magic, so I think I could be more than able to help Mum and Dad remember you."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully as she considered the younger girl's offer, tapping her fingers against her shoulders.

"I suppose you could be right," Hermione admitted. "There _are_ tactics I've been considering that don't require magic. You could certainly help with those."

A smile spread across Minnie's face as soon as she got her answer, then she turned her gaze back up towards Hermione.

"Alright," Minnie agreed, "but you also have to do something for me. I have terms."

Hermione blinked back surprise, amazed that the 'sweet' child that had just been beside her had disappeared so fast. "You have terms?"

Minnie smirked as she swayed from side to side. "Yes, terms."

Hermione scooted away, slightly nervous about just what it was that Minnie was hoping to get out of her assistance. It would certainly be nice to have the girl's help, but it wasn't as though she weren't expendable!

"What might these terms be?"

"I'm not sure yet," Minnie answered slyly, twirling a strand of loose hair. "I'll have to think about it. It's not as though I've already decided what I might want."

Hermione held her shoulders slightly stiffed and made sure there was now a good amount of distance between them. Suddenly, however, Minnie pushed herself off the bed as though she were content to leave the conversation right where it was.

"Where are you going exactly?"

"I'm going to go sleep in the living room," Minnie said. "I don't need to be falling through anymore ceilings!" And with that, Minnie pranced out of the guestroom, slamming the door shut behind her. With all the noise that had occurred that night, it was a miracle that their parents had not been awoken.

_Devious little bugger,_ Hermione thought to herself as she smoothed the rumpled covers of her bed. She could hardly believe she had actually considered the little monster to be 'cute' just a few moments ago.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke up feeling oddly light, as though a weight had been lifted off her back. As she sat on her bedside, stretching her arms and arching her back, she couldn't help but think it might be because she had finally let her younger sister in on the family secret. Even though there was truthfully very little that Minnie could do to help with lifting the spell, there was something relieving about her allowing her sister to know the truth.

Once dressed, Hermione made her way out into the extremely still home. The house was quiet; her parents must have already left for work. Throughout the home, she could see familiar traces that showed links to her mother and father's former selves. She recognized a few pieces of furniture from her childhood home that had managed to survive the test of time. Her parents' sense of decorating style echoed through this new home as well, in the coloring, the woods, and even the pattern and placement of the family's framed photographs. Something Hermione _did_ take note of, though, was that there were absolutely no photographs of her parents taken before they had come to Australia. She wondered if her parents had ever even noticed this.

A small and muffled moan soon distracted Hermione from her own thoughts, and she wandered over to find the source. On the couch, sure enough, there was Minnie, sprawled out and limbs dangling, though appearing completely comfortable. But asleep like this, the little girl seemed so much smaller and more innocent, almost sweet. All thoughts of any malicious undertones Minnie might have had seemed to completely disappear in Hermione's mind.

Once again, Hermione found her hand unconsciously reaching for the little girl's hair, brushing a tickling strand away from her nose. Hermione wondered to herself if it weren't for the spell, all the conflict, if she and Minnie could have had a normal sisterly relationship. Then again, if it weren't for the spell and all the conflict, Minnie probably wouldn't even exist; and she _certainly_ wouldn't share her older sister's name.

Eventually, Hermione wandered away, allowing her younger sister to sleep. With all the thoughts that must have been racing through her head when she left the guest room last night, not to mention full access to the television, there was no telling what time Minnie had actually gone to bed. She made her way into the kitchen, craving breakfast, but not sure what exactly it was she wanted. She circled over the linoleum floor in her bare feet, which were growing colder and colder as more time passed.

"Hermione?"

In the doorway stood Minnie, still in her pajamas and her sleep-rumpled hair. The last night's anger that had been traced across her face was completely absent, her expression was now one of quiet thoughtfulness. Maybe it was possible that Minnie felt bad about her own behavior last night as well.

"Do you want breakfast?" she offered, making her way into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to make coffee."

"I do," Hermione assured her. "Growing up in a world with no Muggle devices, I still know how to brew a cup of coffee."

"Muggle?" Minnie repeated, confused, as she made her way to the pantry.

"It's a word meaning someone without magic," Hermione told her, remembering how naïve her younger sister still was in terms of the Wizarding world. "Not a witch or wizard."

Minnie looked thoughtful as she reached up for a bowl, the cereal box tucked under her arm. "Like Mum and Dad?"

"But not you," Hermione reminded her, eyes shifting back up to the ceiling, like the one that her little sister had fallen through just last night. "And not me either."

For the briefest of moments, Hermione was allowed a bit of silence as she watched her coffee brew. Minnie was already sitting at the table, pouring first her corn flakes, and then her milk. She took a seat in her chair, but she didn't move to touch her breakfast. It took Hermione a moment to realize her little sister was waiting for her to sit down as well before she began eating.

Minnie pointed vaguely with her spoon, not really at anything in particular. "And, that wood thing I saw in your suitcase?"

"My wand," Hermione told her. "It's what I use to do magic."

Minnie began scooping spoonfuls of fake sugar onto her cereal from a sugar bowl that was already resting on the table. Hermione peered into the bowl. Everyone in the world claimed it was impossible to tell the difference, but maybe growing up as the daughter of dentists forever made Hermione astute in telling the difference between real sugar and artificial sweetener.

"Mum and Dad still refuse to buy real sugar, huh?" Hermione stirred the idle spoon through the shimmering white mixture.

Minnie giggled nervously, setting the cover back on the bowl. "I tell them it causes cancer. Where do you get a wand? Can I have one?"

Hermione soon also found herself giggling slightly at what seemed to be her little sister's highly distractible mind.

"I got my wand at a shop in London called Ollivanders," she told her. "But I imagine you will get yours from a wandsmith here in Australia. Though, you probably won't be able to buy one until the summer, I suppose, before you start attending school."

"And I'll be going to a wizard school that's in Australia too?" Minnie ventured to guess. "What's it called?"

Hermione exhaled deeply. "I don't know," she admitted. "Come to think of it, I'm not quite sure who you would get a wand from, or even where the Wizarding market is in this country."

Minnie nodded thoughtfully. "Well, how do I find out?"

"You have me," Hermione assured her. "I'll be able to find all these out in plenty of time before you need to go."

Minnie began stirring and playing with her cereal, but not yet beginning to eat. She was starring over at her sister as though something new was now on her mind. "You're not really a barrister, are you?"

Hermione shook her head, though the answer wasn't really a true and complete no. "I work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. I supposed the work I do for them could be considered a barrister in the Wizarding world."

"Is you husband a wizard too?" Minnie finally started in on her cereal. "What does he do?"

"He's an Auror," Hermione told her before remembering the necessity of needing to explain things further to her Muggle-born little sister. "A Dark wizard catcher. It's somewhat like a special sort of police officer."

"Dark wizards?" Minnie asked with her mouth full. Hermione had to stop herself from lecturing the girl about her table manners.

"Well, Minnie," Hermione took a deep breath as she tried to explain, "just like with Muggles, there are good wizards and there are bad wizards. And with the bad wizards, specially trained wizards are needed to catch them."

Minnie swallowed and nodded rapidly, showing that she understood. "Like police officers with drug dealers and murderers!"

Hermione nodded, but felt herself become stiff and edgy once again. There was just something slightly unnerving about her younger sibling using the word 'drug dealer'. Maybe Minnie wasn't quite so 'innocent' as she had seemed before.

"So what do we need to do?" Minnie piped up suddenly, confusing Hermione with yet another abrupt change in topic.

"What do you mean?"

Minnie elaborated, "How exactly are we going to break this spell you put on our parents?" she explained. "I mean, all _I_ really have to go on is fairy tales and Disney movies, which probably isn't terribly useful."

"I _do_ have a plan for how to do that," Hermione said. "But first, I think there's something we need to discuss. We never really did talk about these 'terms' of yours."

Minnie's eyes went slightly wider and her lips tightened into a tight little 'o', finally remembering her own words from last night.

"Well, I did have time to think about what I wanted," Minnie told her, "and I think I finally know what it is."

Hermione felt everything clench as she waited to hear what it was that her little sister wanted from her. As Minnie had said, all she had to go on for knowing about magic were from fairy tales and fantasy movies. Who knew what those sources might have told her magic was capable of.

"I want help."

Looking up from her hands, where they had been momentarily resting, Hermione gazed over at her little sister, who was staring right back, perfectly serious about what she had requested. "What?" she had to ask anyway.

Minnie shrugged her shoulders as she swallowed her cereal. "I don't know the first thing about being a witch, or about wands, or wizard schools, or anything like that. But you do."

Minnie stirred her spoon around in the off-color milk, looking for any fragments of cereal that might have been hiding. "What I want is for you to tell me everything I need to know about being a witch."

Well, while it certainly wasn't what Hermione had been expecting the younger girl to come up with, it certainly wasn't as horrific as what the little children in storybooks might have asked of a witch. "I think I can accommodate that." Truth be told, there was some part of Hermione's innermost instincts that wanted to do that for her little sister regardless.

"I'm not done," Minnie stopped her quickly before continuing her list. "I want to go to England."

And _there_ was the large sort of favor Hermione had been expecting.

"And not just one of those 'someday' promises! You have to take me before I actually go off to this wizard school."

Hermione sighed deeply, seeing that there was absolutely no way that Minnie could be talked out of this one condition. "Why, in Merlin's name, would you want to go to England? You do know that it's a cold and snowy mess there this time of year, don't you?"

Minnie giggled once again at the expression on her sister's face, and then began spooning up the rest of her sugary milk. "You're my family, so that makes your family my family too," she reasoned, between bites of cereal. "Besides, I remember that photograph you showed Mum and Dad of your kids. I have a niece and nephew who I've never even met!"

Minnie gulped the last bit of milk straight out of the bowl and wiped her mouth on her pajama sleeve before looking up at her sister, smiling sweetly. "You would really deprive them of meeting their Auntie Minnie?" The little girl batted her eyelids, trying to appear too cute to say no to.

Hermione ground her teeth. It would have been difficult to take Minnie back to England with her, not just because of all the inconveniences of travel, but more so because her husband, Harry, and no one else in her family even knew that Hermione Wilkens existed. She had never told any of them. She could scarcely believe the fact that Minnie existed when she had heard of her just the one time at the hospital. The thought of having to tell this story over and over again seemed like pure torture, so Hermione just never did. And so, while she was in Britain, she was able to at least _pretend_ her family in Australia at least resembled something normal.

"Fair enough," Hermione finally relented. "I'll take you to England."

"Great!" Minnie smiled broadly. "Can I try some of your coffee?"

Minnie rushed for the coffee pot before Hermione could answer her, pouring a cup far larger than the little girl would have been able to finish. It was all so strange; going from fearing one, to being angry, and then laughing together. Maybe the frantic, shifting emotions were not the result of any instability on Minnie's part or Hermione's. Maybe it was just typical of the relationship between any other two sisters in the world.


	6. Chapter 5 An Infinite Ability to Ask

Chapter 5  
An Infinite Ability to Ask Questions

"Jayden's awake," Nicole announced, leaning over the infant carrier her nine-month-old brother was strapped into. "Hi, baby!"

Minnie and Jessica, her friend with the braces, also leaned forward to coo over the baby boy as Nicole somewhat clumsily lifted her slightly fussing brother out and placed him onto the floor.

Minnie knew she was no longer officially grounded after today. Mrs. Thompson, Jessica's mum, had suggested the three girls get together for a play date, even though she herself was too busy to host it in her own home. With less than a week until school started, though, there would be very little time left for things like these. So instead, the girls were brought to Nicole's house, and her mother, Ms. Lee, promised to watch the girls. That, of course, did not last very long. Ms. Lee rushed out of the house ten minutes after everyone had arrived to do some sort of errand, not even bothering to say what it was, leaving the three friends and baby Jayden home alone.

Nicole hadn't been worried in the least, though. With such a flighty mother, Nicole would often find herself without a ride or someone to change Jayden's nappies. "It's all part of the bohemian lifestyle," she would say all the time. And it was very much a bohemian sort of lifestyle the Lee family led, trickling down all the way till it even reached baby Jayden.

Nicole was a very artistic girl in every sense of the word. Her house had no television, but there was no need for one. Nicole painted, played the guitar, and quite often, there were also dishes that needed to be washed, garbage that needed to be taken out, and a baby that needed to be cared for. Besides, television programs today were so 'passé', according to Nicole.

Most of Nicole's clothing came from boardwalks and bazaars, places where you couldn't put together a matching outfit even if you tried, and her sleek black hair was always worn up in chic styles that a person would need to devote a day and a half to practicing before its execution could be successfully pulled off. She had boney wrists, usually covered in paint splotches and her fingertips were callused from musical instruments.

Jessica, on the other hand, came from enough normalcy for all three of the friends put together. She had the mummy, the daddy, the brother, the sister, and the yard with the swing set and the fence. Whenever the girls would visit, Jessica's dad would grill hotdogs, her mum would bubble around, but not really do much of anything. Jessica's older brother, Brendan, would tease and torment them, while her older sister, Samantha, would yell at them to get out of the room that the two sisters shared while she globed on more make-up or tried on an obscenely short skirt.

Appearance-wise, Jessica was as different from Nicole as a person could possibly imagine. Jessica had never quite outgrown her baby fat, nor had she given up on her favorite hairstyle of pigtails, which only added to her childish appearance. And then, as though just to shock people, there was the intricate metalwork crisscrossing over her teeth, courtesy of Minnie's own father.

Looking at these girls and how different they all were from one another, Minnie often wondered to herself how they all managed to be such close friends. Moreover, how would they manage to _stay_ friends now that Minnie had learned how different they really were, thanks to Hermione Weasley, her new big sister.

"Who was that lady that brought you here, Minnie?" Nicole asked, wiping a bit of drool from Jayden's chin. She and Jessica had noticed her when Hermione had been the one to drop Minnie off at the Lee house.

"Oh, that was Hermione Weasley," Minnie quickly explained. "She's an old friend of my parents from England and she's here visiting."

"Hey, you two have the same name!" Jessica remarked in a light sort of tone.

"Yeah, I'm named after her." Hermione had told Minnie to say this whenever anyone seemed particularly interested in the fact that the two of them shared such an unusual name. It was a far better explanation than their parents really liked the name Hermione, and had forgotten that they already had a daughter whom they had already given the name to.

"She must have been a very good friend," Nicole reflected as she began scooting across the floor, following her crawling brother.

Minnie nodded nonchalantly, though the act was near torture. She wanted so badly to tell her friends that Hermione wasn't just a good family friend, but her older sister who she had only just learned existed two days ago. Of course, she also wanted to tell her friends that her older sister was a witch from England that had come to Australia to lift the memory charm she had placed on their parents so they would not remember they had an adult daughter. But more than anything, Minnie was dying to tell her best friends that she was a witch as well, complete with the story of her falling through her attic bedroom to the guestroom below and how she learned this was completed through magic.

She wanted to, but she knew that Hermione would have her head if she did.

Last night, Hermione had sat Minnie down to tell her all the 'rules' she would now have to follow when it came to magic. And the biggest one was that she could absolutely _not_ tell any Muggles (a word for people without magic) that witches were real, or the _real_ reason why Hermione had come here. Minnie was even forbidden from telling anyone that she and Hermione were sisters, though this one she understood. Minnie couldn't very well go telling the whole town that she and Hermione Weasley were related when their parents couldn't even remember this.

Though, Hermione hoped this issue would be resolved by the time Minnie was old enough to start attending a wizarding school herself, which had brought up another rather frightening side-point for Minne: it was also illegal for children under seventeen to perform magic outside of school—wizarding school, that is.

This rule had caused Minnie a great deal of panic at first, recalling the incident of her falling through her bed, until Hermione assured her that the law only applied to magic done intently and with a wand. Children who hadn't started school yet were given a grace period on accidental magic that ended once they got their wands.

This, of course, had led Minnie to wonder a whole new series of questions, all about school. When would she be getting this letter? Would she be going to Hermione's old school since their parents were British, or would she be going to school in Australia? Was there even a wizarding school in Australia? What would she and her parents tell everyone in town after Minnie had left? But Hermione tried to assure Minnie that there would be plenty of time to sort all these things out later; which, in adult language, meant that Hermione did not know, Minnie had come to learn.

But something else Hermione had told Minnie was to make the most of the time she would have left with her Muggle friends before she went off to school. Apparently, after Hermione had left her home for Hogwarts, she saw her old Muggle friends less and less until finally, they just stopped associating all together. Minnie liked to think she was close enough to Jessica and Nicole that that wouldn't happen. All the same, it felt good just to have the added excuse to have fun with her friends.

Though even that did not last very long, signaled by a soft knocking at the door. Scooting across the floor, Minnie peeked through the living room blinds to see a head of bushy hair and a body that had still not learned to dress for the Australian climate.

"Hermione's here!" Minnie pushed herself up off the floor, beginning to gather up her things.

Both girl's groaned at this, though Jessica's was quite a bit louder as Nicole was somewhat occupied with her baby brother. "Aw, do you have to leave already?"

In a way, Minnie couldn't believe herself. Never before would she have been so eager to leave her friends just to be taken home, where she would likely be all by herself.

"Yeah, I do," Minnie told her friend. "My parents have something planned."

She didn't even feel bad about lying to them. She just rushed for the door, throwing it open with everything that she had.

* * *

Waiting on the pavement, Hermione shifted on her feet as she waited for her little sister to meet her outside. Their parents had been somewhat confused when Hermione had offered to pick Minnie up from her play date, but they both had full days of appointments, so they weren't about to turn away help when it was offered.

Besides, she felt nearly obligated to do this sort of thing, almost out of guilt. And the fact that it was out of guilt and not out of any sort of love for her younger sister just made her feel even guiltier.

And these feelings of guilt weren't just confined to Hermione past relations with her sister. Really, what had Hermione done these past years to support the family she claimed to love so much? Saying she was hard at working researching ways to undo the memories charms placed on them on them only went so far.

And now that Minnie was also a part of the 'Granger' family, Hermione could only assume the little girl was part of a package deal. And there came the guilt again for thinking of a member of her own family in such plastic terms.

She and the little girl might have shared a few pleasant moments, among the numerous loud and uncomfortable ones, but that was hardly enough to build a relationship on.

However, Hermione was soon given a welcoming distraction from her circling thoughts, though in a rather unwelcome way, as she found herself nearly doubling over as some force attacked her from behind.

"Hi, hi!" Minnie exclaimed, hugging Hermione tight around the middle.

Hermione struggled to remain steady on her feet as the little girl's tackling hug took her center of gravity. "Hello, Minnie," she managed to say rather dryly. "Ready to go?"

But as cold as Hermione believed she sounded, it didn't seem to have any effect on her younger sister, who was still smiling broadly up at her.

"So what are we going to do today?" the girl suddenly asked, beginning a tightrope-like walk along the ledge of the curb.

Hermione was confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Are Mum and Dad going to be especially late tonight?" Minnie clarified. "What are we going to do in the mean time?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione told her, staring absent-mindedly up at the sky. "They just asked if I could come and get you from your friends, but I don't know if they plan on working late tonight or not."

"You can call them Mum and Dad around me, you know," Minnie suddenly said, still looking up at her sister with that same smile. "I don't mind."

Minnie was clearly trying to be kind, but all the young girl had really succeeded in was making Hermione feel extraordinarily uncomfortable. Minnie might have been perfectly ready to accept Hermione as a member of her family, but Hermione was not quite sure she was ready to make a place for herself in this family that was so different from the one she had left eleven years ago.

"It's such a nice day outside," Minnie remarked suddenly, looking up to face the sun. "I should take Chunga for a walk."

It was at this sudden statement that Hermione found herself shocked into sudden attention. Hermione could not help but become instantly horrified at the notion of her sister's monstrous reptile being allowed off their parents' property, free to roam the city streets.

"You take that thing for walks?" she exclaimed, eyes going wide. "Is that even legal?"

"It is if you keep him on a leash," Minnie answered. "He likes it."

But Minnie barely gave her sister a few seconds to consider that thought before moving on, fast as lightning, to another subject.

"Hermione, have you ever seen a bug that spins around and around like a top?"

Hermione's head snapped down suddenly.

"I've been seeing this bug for weeks, and none of the books I have looked in know what it's called," Minnie explained her dilemma. "It's really brightly colored, and it somehow seems to _know_ when it is about to be photograph. I've asked nearly anyone who will sit still long enough, but nobody seems to know what I'm talking about. Is it a wizard bug?"

Hermione stared off thoughtfully for a moment or so. "It sounds like a Billywig. It's a magical creature that is native to Australia."

"Is that why no one else can see it?" Minnie asked. "Because I'm a witch and no one else around here is?"

"That could be," Hermione told her. "Wonthaggi doesn't seem to have a large magical population, but if there are magical creatures running around, it is possible that the Australian Department for Control of Magical Creatures has cast some kind of disillusionment charm over the city so Muggles won't be able to see them. But as a witch, of course, you aren't effected by such charms."

Minnie took in the words thoughtfully and looked up at her sister. "Did you learn that at your school…what's-it-called?"

"Hogwarts," Hermione reminded her.

Minnie snickered at the name. When she saw that her sister wasn't laughing along with her, though, she did her very best to stifle her giggles from behind her hand.

As the two sisters made more distance on their walk down the pavement, Minnie began taking on the role of tour guide and started pointing out the various sites and attractions of Wonthaggi, Victoria.

"That's the park where they caught an escaped kangaroo when I was five," Minnie said, pointing off towards a city park across the street. "It was supposed to go to a zoo in Melbourne, but the little bugger broke out of its cage when they were driving through Wonthaggi.

"A bunch of kids wanted to try climbing inside its pouch. I did too, but Mum and Dad said that would have been the stupidest thing I had ever done."

This time, Hermione actually did laugh at her little sister's words. It _did_ sound like the sort of thing a small child would think was a good idea, and she almost wonder if she would have tried to do the exact same thing at that age.

"That house," Minnie said, pointing to a butter-colored home, "that's where the Kelly sisters live. There's Martina, Melinda, Maxine, Marcella, and…Magdalene."

Hermione couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the long string of names.

"They aren't there now, though," Minnie added as they moved further down the pavement. "Their parents send them all away to this boarding school. But the older girls used to babysit me when I was younger and they were home on holiday."

"Where do they go?"

Minnie just shrugged her shoulders. "Their parents are kinda weird—really old fashioned, I mean—so I don't really talk to them if I don't have to. I only talk to the girls."

But it took no time at all for Minnie to launch off on another tangent.

"And there," Minnie pointed to another house on the opposite side of the street "that's where the Hatchers live. The twins, Ty and Tigue, will be in class with me this year. I can't stand them!"

Minnie then launched into a long series of stories detailing the true horror of these 'Hatcher twins;' stories about teasing and hair pulling and stealing things from colored pencils to pets.

"Have you thought of anything new to try?" Minnie asked suddenly, going off on a completely different tangent.

It caught Hermione off guard. "What?"

Minnie elaborated, "What are you going to do to help Mum and Dad remember who you are that you didn't try before? If it turns out they _are_ going to be staying late at work tonight, it might be a good time to do some planning."

Even though Hermione now understood what her little sister was asking, she still wasn't quite sure how to go about answering the question. Reversing memory charms was a complicated subject, even for Hermione. Although she and Minnie were cut from the same cloth—Hermione might have been flattering herself more with that thought than she was with Minnie—but there was no way of telling whether the theory of it all would be completely over the girl's head.

In fact, Hermione even found herself a bit concerned about the fact that her sister seemed completely unable to focus on any given subject for an extensive period of time. How would she ever be able to study as a witch with this weakness, much less be of any help in recovering their parents' memories?

There was one aspect of it, however, that Hermione had only begun considering recently that seemed like something Minnie would understand quite well, and even be able to help with.

"Something I have been reading in more recent Healing journals is that Healers are beginning to see that when people subjected to memory charms are put through reenactments of major life events, memories begin to return in small doses.

"No one has been completely cured through this method," Hermione stressed, "but you and I have a unique opportunity here, Minnie. Just like when I was growing up, our parents are both dentists and they _believe_ they have one daughter named Hermione. Maybe if we have enough matching events from our childhoods, it will at least give us a foundation to begin with."

Minnie's eyes were bright and a broad smile was spreading across her face. "You really think so?"

Hermione nodded and tried to think positively. "Let's try and find out what we have to work with. Let me see…when I was nine, I won a national essay contest back in Britain. And our town library would always have summer reading contests for primary school students to see who could read the most books over the holidays; I actually won that twice."

But Minnie just shook her head. Apparently there would be no useful angles to tie in on this point.

"Oh! I had my tonsils taken out when I was eight!" Hermione suddenly remembered. "Have you ever had an operation?"

"Yes, but not for tonsils." Minnie opened her mouth wide as though she thought Hermione would want to check. "I was in a climbing contest with Tigue Hatcher and I fell three branches from the top. They had to reset my arm with pins."

Hermione couldn't help but cringe at the idea of metal pins being put in her arm. _The wizarding world has finally convinced me that all Muggle medicine is entirely barbaric,_ she mused. But she was also beginning to see how very different she and her sister were, despite that fact that they had been raised under near-identical circumstances. Certainly Hermione had been in her share of dangerous situations; it was an occupational hazard of being friends with Harry Potter, but she could never imagine herself doing any of those things before she had begun attending Howarts, when she was still Minnie's age.

"Well, our parents weren't in the room watching the actual operation. I think it could work."

Minnie had a differing opinion. "But at the end of it, you got ice cream and I got Mum yelling at me about how I could be so stupid!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh just a little at this statement. "We'll count it anyway."

"Okay, now I get to ask _you_ questions," Minnie said, her eyes drifting upward as she considered possibilities. "Did you ever ask Mum and Dad for a pet monkey?"

Once again, Hermione found herself completely surprised. "No!"

"What about a sugar glider?" Minnie tried.

"What on earth is that?"

"A flying marsupial native to certain parts of Australia," Minnie explained, "but I'm going to guess no to that too, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Clever girl."

But Minnie wasn't done yet. "What about a ball python?"

Hermione was beginning to wonder just how many animals her little sister was going to name off, although she did feel she was gaining a great insight into the character of Hermione Wilkens.

"Minnie, you're going to grow up to have a zoo in your own house, I think."

Minnie smirked up at Hermione in a cheeky manner. "I know that!"

* * *

Hermione sat in the bedside armchair, a book draped over the arm of it and a tablet in her lap, quill in her hand. Most of her notes seemed to be useless and, for the most part, they were things Hermione already knew when she first arrived in Australia, but sitting still and doing nothing was certainly not an option either. Even if it was just for herself, she had to keep herself busy.

No one had blamed Hermione when she came back from Australia the first time, when she had not been able to break her own memory charm. She was flooded with 'It's alright, dear's' and told her that anything done out of love could have no wrong, but deep down, Hermione supposed she had never really believed it. She was the one who lived with the burden of knowledge in knowing exactly how much effort she had put into the task of reviving her parents' memories and the exact circumstances under which they were living, namely their newest child who no one in Britain even knew existed.

Frankly, Hermione wasn't even quite sure how she herself was doing to deal with these changes. She had not even begun thinking about how she was going to introduced her little sister to all the friends and family members Hermione had back home, and that, she supposed, Minnie had as well.

Hermione still couldn't ignore the fact that she still felt a bit at a distance from her younger sibling, and she wasn't quite sure how she was going to get over that hump. She knew that she and Minnie were related, and how it was a mutual knowledge between the two of them, but Hermione still couldn't help but feel there was still no real emotional connection between the two of them. The little girl still felt only slightly above a stranger in Hermione's mind. Granted, a stranger that had no apprehensions about sneaking up and hugging Hermione from behind and felt as though she had perfect permission to barge into Hermione's room without even needing to knock.

Much like she was doing right at this very moment.

Just like on the night Hermione had arrived in Wonthaggi, Minnie was dressed in her pajamas, her hair still damp from her shower. She was walking in a very odd manner, and very soon Hermione noticed it was because the girl had both her hands locked behind her back.

"Hi," Minnie greeted in a coy manner, her hands hiding behind her back.

Hermione couldn't help but feel just a little uneasy, because, of course, whenever she had seen a similar expression on the face of the Weasley twin when they were young, it usually meant some prank at her expense was about to follow.

"Minnie," Hermione asked cautiously, "what is it that you have there?"

Minnie did not play any games with the question. "I brought someone to meet you," she answered plainly.

When Hermione took further note of the mischievous smile on her sister's face and the odd way she was wrinkling her nose, and her past experience with things Minnie considered entertaining or funny—and the fact that they also tended to have four legs—Hermione found herself subconsciously back up against the headboard of her bed.

"It's not Chunga," Minnie assured her, finally showing what she was hiding behind her back.

In her arms was a black-spotted rabbit, and peeking in and out of her mane of bushy hair were a pair of green and pink birds. Minnie invited herself to take a seat on Hermione's bed. "This Spot-Spot, my rabbit," she introduced, "and these are my birds, Bidgie and Bickie."

Setting the rabbit down on the bedspread, Minnie held both her hands up so the lovebirds could step up onto them. "You can hold them if you like."

But Minnie didn't even wait for an answer before she set the birds on either of Hermione's shoulders. Hermione felt two sets of claw feet slinking their way across her shoulder, and very soon after that, a very painful bite on her ear. "Ow! Bloody—" Hermione caught herself before she could finish the statement.

"Oh, yeah," Minnie said apologetically. "Bidgie bites, but I'm working on training her not to."

Minnie had barely finished that sentence, however, when Hermione felt another bit on her other ear. "Ouch!"

"Bickie!" Minnie exclaimed, shocked that the other little parrot was joining in as well. "I'm sorry. I guess they just don't like you."

Minnie held her hands out to the birds, who both climbed on without protest, each climbing up Minnie's arms so they could sit on her shoulders.

"Here, why don't you take Spot-Spot instead?" Minnie placed the bundle of black and white fur into her sister's arms while she turned her attention back to her parrots, whom she began to scold softly.

Academically, Hermione knew it was ridiculous to be afraid of holding a rabbit, but given her past experience with Minnie and her creatures, she couldn't help it. When the fuzzy little creature finally settled into Hermione's arms, Minnie moved on to what she really must have come to Hermione's room to do.

"You promised me that if I helped you that you would tell me everything I needed to know about becoming a witch," the girl said, shooing the birds away from her hair. "We spent the afternoon talking about what you needed, so now we're going to talk about what _I_ need."

"Alright," Hermione agreed immediately, scratching the rabbit behind its ears. "What would you like to know?"

Minnie's eyes went slightly wide, as though she didn't quite expect her sister to give into her demands so easily. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know the first thing about _real_ witches. I don't even know where to start with asking questions."

Hermione stroked Spot-Spot's head thoughtfully. "Why don't you try telling some of the things you think you know about witches, and I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong?"

Minnie looked as though she didn't know where to start. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling for a moment as she pondered, but then came back down once she finally settled on a question.

"Have you ever eaten a human child?"

Hermione found herself offended once again. "Minnie, I'm not a hag!"

"Ah! So there is a difference between witches and hags!" Minnie exclaimed, as though she had made a great discovery. "Does that mean there are different levels of witches? What level of witch are you? Do you have to take some sort of test to pass to a different level—"

Hermione held out her hand to stop the rush of questions. "Minnie, I'm going to tell you right now that the questions you're asking have nothing to do with the wizarding world as it is. The things about witches luring children into gingerbread houses and melting when you pour water on them are all just from ridiculous fairy stories that are told to Muggle children."

At this explanation, Minnie appeared to be slightly disappointed. "So there are no fairies?"

"Yes, there _are_ fairies, but that's not the point.," Hermione told her. "It's sort of like visiting a foreign county when you have only heard of it through books and television. You go there having your own preconceptions about it, but you have to learn that not all of those are right and you need to learn about what this new place really is like. It's something of a process."

Minnie nodded thoughtfully at the answer before she began thinking about more questions to ask her sister and what sorts of things were most likely made up stories about witches. Hermione didn't even stop to acknowledge the fact that she probably thought the exact same thing about witches when she was Minnie's age.

"What were some of the things you did before you knew you were a witch?" she moved on. "You know, like when I fell through the ceiling, things like that."

Hermione took a few moments to ponder this question. So many of her classmate talk about certainly the more outrageous events of them performing unintentional magic, but the honest truth was, Hermione had none to speak of. Of course, after getting her letter to Hogwarts, could recall plenty of incidents of herself perform magic, like the often event of the pictures in her books starting to move on their own, locked doors she normally wasn't allowed through suddenly swinging wide open, but most definitely nothing that she thought might have been of interest to Minnie. Especially given the fact the first instance Hermione had witnessed of the girl's magical talent was something so…so…

"Did you _ever_ get the Muggle Excuse People to come after you?" Minnie interrupted once again, completely butchering the name of the agency.

"Not that I know of," Hermione said. "It is possible that there were a few incidents that needed a great deal of help from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, but what I did was just so huge and massive, they had to erase my memories and the memories of everyone around me because we all just weren't ready to learn about the wizarding world!"

Hermione had meant for that story to be just a teasing sort of joke. She had seen the Weasleys do the exact same thing with one another on so many occasions. But when she saw Minnie leaning back like a spooked animal, Hermione rethought the current circumstances, and decided that jokes regarding memories charms would likely always be quite inappropriate with her family.

"But no, not that I remember," she finished quickly. "And I assume you have never been involved with them either, and I hope that you never will. Needing to have the Ministry of Magic to clean up after your messes is not something to brag about."

In an instant, whatever reservations Minnie might have held evaporated as she moved on to her next series of questions.

"What about all the school things I asked last night?" the girl pestered. "Why haven't I gotten my letter yet? We both know I'm a witch. Are you sure that I'm going to be going to school in Australia? You, Mum, and Dad are all British; maybe Hogwarts will want me. Shouldn't you know all this stuff already? What if…"

Something Hermione had learned about her younger sister just last night was that the girl seemed to have an infinite ability to come up with question after question on any different subject. It seemed like it wouldn't even matter if Hermione were able to answer all of them or not, because Minnie would have come up with something brand new to ask and completely forget the question that had come before it or the answer she had not yet received.

Hermione could not help but laugh when a sudden, random thought entered her mind. "Oh, Minnie, it's a good thing Professor Snape won't be around to meet you!"

Minnie wrinkled her nose, confused. "Who's that?"

It was odd. Hermione had always been convinced that it wouldn't be possible to miss such a miserable human being, but now that his name had been brought up, she couldn't help feeling a pang of sadness for her former teacher and the fact that he was no longer among them.

"Professor Snape was my old Potions professor who died during the war," she told Minnie. "He could never stand me, and he used to call me an insufferable know-it-all. And with your ability to ask a thousand questions a minute, he would have likely gone mad after the first day of class."

"It's too bad he's dead," Minnie replied, solemnly but lightly at the same time. "That would have been funny to see."

Hermione knew it was terrible of her, but she still could not ignore the fact that watching Professor Snape lose his mind would be something she might be able to sell tickets for.

Of course, Minnie's talent for asking questions then shifted to the subject of Professor Snape. It was funny how things that seems so tragic and unjust when they were happening to her as a student now came off as being completely hilarious.

And the night went on like that for what must have been hours. And true to her talent, Minnie was able to come up with question after question, some ridiculous, some serious and thoughtful.

What Hermione _did_ fail to observe was as the night went on, the two sisters inched closer and closer to one another, began touching one another on the shoulders and the knees. And then they were laughing, smiling, even leaning against one another. Any other casual onlooker might not have known the sisters had been apart for ten days, much less ten years.


	7. Chapter 6 The Last First Day of School

Chapter 6  
The Last First Day of School

"Mum, I can't find my backpack! Is it downstairs?"

These loud shouting matches had been occurring on and off for the whole morning, and Hermione was the only one who had been able to enjoy a peaceful breakfast. Today was Minnie's first day of fifth grade, and the entire house was jumping. Minnie was especially anxious, as Hermione informed her that this would probably be her last year in a Muggle school, and her little sister was determined to make the most of it before she was sent off to Australia's wizarding school.

Come to think of it, Hermione didn't know anything about Australia's wizarding school, or even what it was called. Wasn't she supposed to be responsible for knowing these kinds of things, as a big sister? Certainly she was too old to be playing hide and seek, or gossiping about boys with Minnie without it seeming strange. But seeing as they were both Muggle-born witches, her nearly twenty years seniority should have been useful for at least giving advice, and she had none to offer.

A loud crashing sound startled Hermione back into the here and now, and she looked up just in time to see Minnie race into the kitchen, wearing her green school uniform and with Chunga, the unidentifiable lizard, hoisted over her shoulder. Hermione certainly wouldn't say she was _used_ to the monstrous reptile, but it no longer terrified her when she would be walking through the house and the creature would cross her path, on the hunt for whatever it was that the monster ate.

"I have to go!" Minnie gasped, dropping Chunga to the floor and snatching her backpack off the countertop in one movement. "No time for breakfast!"

Their father, who had been running around the kitchen with a coffee cup in his hand, and had miraculously not spilled a drop, shook his head and stammered, "No, no, have something!"

Before Minnie could protest, he broke off a banana from the bunch in the fruit bowl and shoved it into her hand. Minnie dropped it into the side pocket of her bag and raced out of the kitchen with their father right behind her, his coffee cup still in his hand. Their mother had slipped out of the house completely unnoticed in the bustle in a way that Hermione remembered from her own childhood on hectic mornings.

Hermione calmly glanced up at the clock. Minnie wasn't late for school. The children of dentists never were. But they were raised in a house that kept such early hours that by the time they actually started school, they would be convinced that they needed to be dressed and out the door before the crack of dawn as well. Hermione could remember this well from her own primary school days. And the year she had found out she was a witch, her early mornings in the classroom were all the more memorable and relevant to the here and now.

With the house quiet and finally empty, Hermione at last felt safe in going upstairs to her stash of spell books and other magic supplies.

Once in the guestroom, Hermione unsnapped the clasps on her suitcase and softly let the top cover drop onto the covers of her bed before she began emptying her clothes out of the case. It wasn't just because of her exposed wand and the sake of her privacy that Hermione had been so neurotic about Minnie going near her suitcase. Anyone who had a real idea of what to look for could see that this was not just any Muggle suitcase, no matter how it might appear.

Extracting her wand from her pocket—now that she was an official older sister, Hermione had learned the importance of not leaving anything valuable just laying around, which, oddly enough, having children hadn't taught her—Hermione gave it a quick wave over the bottom of the suitcase.

"_Peto falsus,_" she recited under her breath.

Almost like the shades on a window, the supposed bottom of the suitcase snapped up to reveal the true bottom, which was far deeper than the physical detentions of the outer suitcase would have led people to believe. Hermione had always felt it was a shame that no one under seventeen was allowed to use magic once she learned the spell. She could only imagine how many times the charm would have come in handy in her younger years, and was now going to waste now that she was an adult and had no reason to hide anything she had packed—at least until now.

The bottom of Hermione's suitcase was made up of a complete, even layer of books. Ron had joked about it, recalling the year they had gone off in search of the Horcruxes, saying it was just like her to choose books over food. Hermione snorted and shook her head. There might have been valid reason to tease her when they were kids on the run, but now Hermione was an adult with an ample bank account; it was no longer a primary concern of hers whether or not too many people saw her buying tea and scones.

Besides, how could Hermione be expected to lift a set of Memory Charms without a full arsenal of information at her disposal? Gilderoy Lockhart was still residing at St. Mungo's, just as lost and confused as ever, and he had the best Healers in Britain working on his case twenty-four seven. If Hermione wanted any hope of curing her parents, she had prepared.

In a way that even Hermione recognized as being rather anal retentive, she stacked the books on the table in a very even column. Before leaving for Australia, Hermione had cleaned out nearly the entire British library system on the subject of recovering memory. Almost none of the more practical texts had to do with Hermione's exact situation, they mostly had to do with memory loss due to head injuries or traumatic events. Anything remotely related to the lifting of Memory Charms was strictly theory-based and more or less written entirely by people considered 'crackpots' by the Healing community. Even Hermione felt a bit put off by most of the reading material, but she knew that anything they had to say would be of more use than anything she would come up with on her own with what little she knew.

Then Hermione reached into the bottom of the compartment for the most…animated book in her collection: one with the bright orange continent of Australia surrounded by waving marsupials. This certain book was actually a good luck gift from George Weasley; _Around the World on a Sore Bum: Australia_, by Tim Cleese. Hermione was certain that George had meant the gift to be a joke from the funny title, something to lighten the mood, but it had actually been quite informative. Tim Cleese, apparently, was an American schoolteacher who, on his summer holidays, would travel around the world on his broomstick, and then write travel books for wizards based on his own journeys.

Suddenly overcome with the need to amuse herself—as George had probably suspected she might need to—Hermione took the travel book, and settled herself comfortably into her chair as she prepared herself for a long read. But instead of starting at the very beginning of the book, as Hermione usually went about reading, but instead found herself running her thumb across the pages, moving them like a flipbook, looking for something to catch her eye. Finally, she found it. Towards the end of the book, there was a very large and colorful map of Australia pointing out everything that Mr. Cleese believed was worth seeing.

Pictures always seemed to draw people's random attention before written words did.

The Australian Ministry of Magic was centered in the capital, Canberra, while most of the culturally significant keystones of wizarding life could be found in Sydney. There were a few colored dots signifying wizarding villages scattered across the rest of the continent, as well as what could probably be described as 'tourist attractions'. But on the brightly colored map, Victoria was almost completely empty. Aside from some tiny specks signifying _extremely_ small settlements, the territory appeared to be completely devoid of wizarding life…well, aside from herself and Minnie, of course.

Flipping through the rest of the book, Hermione wondered to herself if there was some sort of explanation for all of this, or if Victoria was really just a truly dull place.

* * *

_Year five,_ Minnie thought to herself as she searched the desks for one with her name on it. _Today, I am really, officially a year fiver!_

And according to her sister, this would also be Minnie's _last_ year in a Muggle school. She wondered if she should tell anyone this. It might seem a bit strange if she suddenly had plans to attend a boarding school that no one had ever heard of (she probably wouldn't even be able to give the real name of the school, even). She would have to ask Hermione about these things as soon as she got home.

Trailing her fingers along the rows of desks, Minnie finally found the one belonging to her, second from the back, third column; a very inconspicuous seat, Minnie noted. The desk called her 'Hermione' instead of 'Minnie', though Minnie knew from experience that it was quite rare for anyone to be called by their legal name past the first day of school.

Minnie continued to wander her new surroundings. Despite all the colorful, traditional school posters decorating the classroom, the walls were more or less bare by the standards that Minnie had come to think of in terms of primary school classrooms. Soon enough, however, it would be covered with construction paper art projects and sloppy, messy paintings. The now empty bulletin board would be covered with exceptional school work, and the dark slate of the chalkboard would be covered in a film of chalk.

Just how much would her classroom at wizard school be like this? Did wizarding children do craft projects…what did they have over the chalkboard instead of the alphabet? Did wizards even _use_ chalkboards? What would they use instead? Minnie set her book bag down on her desk, deciding she would have to make a list of all these things to ask Hermione when she got home, just so she didn't forget anything.

But before Minnie could get a chance to begin, she was quite rudely interrupted. "Hey, Minnie Mouse!"

Minnie cringed inwardly at the sound of the simultaneous and oh-so familiar voices before turning around and meeting with the twin forms of Ty and Tigue Hatcher, outfitted in matching green polos and khakis.

The Hatcher twins were true athletic Aussies with sandy hair, tanned skin, and who each stood at least a foot and a half above Minnie. Minnie could never remember it being any other way, and she could never remember a time when the twins did not do everything in their power to torment her. Even when they weren't in the same class, they would still find a way to make themselves the chief torment in the girl's life.

At Wonthaggi Primary, the grade levels were mixed. Last year, when Minnie had been a fourth grader, she had been in the same class as Daniel Hatcher, a third grader and Ty and Tigue's younger brother. And the year before that, when Minnie had been a third grader, she had been in the same class as Ty and Tigue again. It was Minnie's misfortune to have at least one of the Hatcher boys in class with her every year since she was six.

But at least this was going to be the last year of it all. Surely fate was not cruel enough that one of the Hatcher boys would turn out to have magic as well.

Minnie groaned to herself as the boys circled around her like a pair of hyenas. In the mean time, she would just have to do her very best to put up with the Hatcher boys until the school year was over. Not that they were making it easy.

"What's Minnie Mouse been doing over the summer holidays?" Tigue asked, leaning over Minnie's shoulder and speaking directly into her ear. "You haven't been falling off cliffs or getting eaten by whales, have you?"

"Victoria's whale population consists mainly of right and blue whales, neither of which feed on anything larger than krill." Minnie knew that the boys didn't really care about the Australian whale population, but she wasn't sure of how else to respond to them. It was the story of her life.

Tigue began swinging Minnie's long plait as though it were a jump rope. "Minnie, Minnie, Minnie…," he drawled. "You haven't changed at all."

Ty took his turn, moving in a slow circle so he could meet Minnie eye to eye. "I feel like we're gunna to have a very fun time in year five and year six, don't ya reckon?" Ty took Minnie's braid as his brother handed it over to him while Minnie smoldered in silence.

The teasing suddenly made Minnie remember her older sister telling her about how it was incredibly common for young witches and wizards to have incidents of 'accidental' magic when they were upset or angry. She wondered if anything 'unfortunate' were to happen to either of the Hatcher boys, just how much the…Ministry of Magic would hold her accountable.

Eyes shut tight and teeth clench, Minnie began chanting the same mental mantra in her head: _Exploding heads, exploding heads…_

Both of their heads were intact, but both boys did appear sufficiently freaked out. Minnie had been known for her numerous little quirks among the people of Wonthaggi, but this was something completely new entirely. Something that possibly bordered on psychotics, especially after the mental mantra developed subconsciously into a whisper.

"Minnie!" two young female voices called simultaneously.

The three bodies already in the classroom turned around to see Jessica and Nicole standing shoulder to shoulder. But the twins, for the first time in their short lives, chose not to spread the misery of their teasing as they strode away silently, heading for the hallway. They didn't even stop to tease either of Minnie's friends, which was most certainly a red flag.

"What's wrong with the Hatcher twins?" Jessica asked, clearly flabbergasted when not a word was uttered about her braces.

"Um, nothing," Minnie answered quickly, slipping into her seat. "Better sit down. Class is going to start soon."

* * *

Three hours into the morning, Hermione still had yet to open any of the books that had anything to do with memory charms.

Hermione had already become somewhat acquainted with the Australian edition of the _Sore Bum_ series while she was on the plane, once she was able to successfully hide all the moving illustrations racing throughout the book from the surrounding Muggles. It was a situation that proved for a rather sporadic style of reading where not a great deal could be learned about the continent of Australia. Mr. Cleese was very thorough in his writings, covering everything from dragon reserves to the Australian wizarding prison, though Hermione couldn't imagine who would want to spend their vacation _there_.

Hermione supposed a prison didn't really need guards or Dementors if the prisoners were just going to die of thirst as soon as they escaped.

But what she was most interested now was finding the Australian equivalent of Diagon Alley. A visit to some wizarding shops meant access to new information, books and journals, and the supplies necessary to carry out spells and potions. And, maybe in the meantime, she would be able to allow Minnie the opportunity to answer some of her own questions, and maybe even learn a bit about Australia's school of magic, wherever it may be.

Hermione suddenly stopped herself when she realized that she had already decided that Minnie would be coming with her without giving the thought itself any sort of consideration. Shaking her head franticly, she turned her attention back towards the book and trying to figure out just where Australia's wizarding market was exactly.

This, however, was the one part of the book where Mr. Cleese did not share a great deal of detail. All he had to say about the wizarding market was that their best bet was to go to Sydney, and that the Australian Museum of Wizarding and Natural Magical History would be able to take them there if that was the case, to a place called Buruwangnuwi, which was where anything that could be bought and sold by wizards could be found. Hermione had no idea what this was supposed to mean, but she had also learned long ago that when it came to the wizarding world, when you did not know what to expect, it was best not to expect anything.

Hermione suddenly felt the ear that was facing east begin to twinge, as though from all the way in America, Mr. Tim Cleese was laughing directly at her and all the frustration she was currently feeling.

* * *

"Good morning, years five and six!" the teacher greeted them, smiling broadly. "Some of you know me already, but there is a great deal of new faces too. I am Mr. Robinson. Well, I think the best place to start will be to tell all of you what you can expect from the school year."

Minnie twitched involuntarily as she felt a small string just behind her ear. Ty and Tigue Hatcher were sitting right next to each other, and just like every other year they shared a class with Minnie, the celebrated the first day of school by finding some way to torment her without the teacher noticing.

This year, it was flicking tiny bits of trash at the back of Minnie's head while the teacher was turned facing the board. And this was everything from wads of paper, to pencil erasers, and even a few bits of pocket change. Minnie was convinced that by the end of the day, she would be at least a pound heavier because of everything that was getting caught in it.

"In English, we will be focusing on three different stories: _A Wrinkle in Time_, _The Secret Garden_, and also the ballad, _The Man from Snowy River_. We will be reading these stories together in class, and there will be a variety of different projects we will complete for them. In SOSE, we will start with studying government, and then we will move on to Australian history. Science will be very exciting. We will be working our way through a variety of experiments, including incubating and hating our own chicks. In Maths…."

Minnie was quickly reaching her breaking point. He was looking directly at the class, and still, this idiot of a teacher was not seeing what the Hatcher twins were doing to her. Either that or he was just choosing to ignore it, and quite frankly, Minnie wasn't sure which was worse.

"And that will be our year's curriculum in a nutshell. I am hoping we can have a very productive, but very fun year. So, why don't we start off the year with a bit of fun? How about before we actually get started on any schoolwork, we play a couple of rounds of Heads-Down, Thumbs-Up? I'll just start by picking seven of you at random and the rest of you can all put your heads down…."

But Minnie was not about to put _her_ head down, for a game or for anything else. With everything the Hatcher boys were doing while she was up and alert, what would they do with her head down and unable to see anything?

_Why won't you pay attention?_ Minnie was screaming inside her own head.

But Mr. Robinson just continued to go about the business of picking the seven people to be It first. Ty was called up to be one of these people, while Tigue was left behind, leaving one of each of them in a position of attack. Everything was in the makings for a highly miserable day of school, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

_For the love of Merlin!_ Minnie thought to herself with the almost-swear word she had only just learned from her sister towards her new teacher. _Pay attention, will you?_

And that was what it finally took for the Hatcher twins to stop tormenting Minnie. But it wasn't just the teacher that was forced to take notice; it was every student in the classroom, as well as every other human being within the walls of Wonthaggi Primary.

* * *

When Hermione finally did hear the front door open, her first feeling was one of panic. Had the whole day gone by without her accomplishing a single thing? But when she saw the clock, panic turned to confusion when the hands told that it wasn't even noon yet. Her parents had never come home for lunch before, not when they had lived in England and not while Hermione had been visiting.

"_Abdo falsus,_" she recited, the false bottom snapping shut in her suitcase.

Once she reached the bottom of the staircase, the previous threat of being caught in the act of studying magic evaporated completely from her mind. Minnie and their father were standing in the entryway, and from the looks on their faces, Hermione could tell whatever had brought them home so early was going to occupy a great deal of the family's attention for the next few hours.

Minnie's clothes and strands of her hair clung to her, damp. Fat drops of water dripped from the tail of her plait and there was a very distinct squishing sound with every step she took in her shoes. Their father didn't appear to have anything wrong with him, aside from the highly frustrated expression on his face. Hermione groaned inwardly. She could imagine dozens of scenarios that could have possibly led to the scene in front of her, and none of them seemed very pleasant.

"Minnie?" Hermione made her way down the rest of the stairs. "Wendell, what are you doing here? School can't be over this early?"

Their father shook his head and Minnie's eyes shifted down towards the floor in a very guilty sort of expression.

"School was closed early," her father told her. "There was an incident."

"What sort of incident?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Minnie continued to look down at the floor in that guilty manner of hers, but their father didn't appear to be the least bit upset. "Don't worry, it was nothing Minnie did. There was a malfunction with the fire system," he told the tale. "Alarms and sprinklers were going off all over the school, and no one was able to stop them."

The wheels in Hermione's head began turning as she began to put the pieces together. Somehow, most likely the result of accidental magic, Minnie had caused the malfunctions with her school's fire system, and Minnie knew it. Now she could understand Minnie's damp appearance.

"My goodness!" Hermione did her best to appear shocked. "Well, were they able to fix it? What's going to happen now?"

Wendell shrugged his shoulders. "The kids actually won't be going back to school until the fire department completes an investigation. With wildfires in season, they absolutely cannot have children attending school in a building without a properly-functioning fire alarm."

"Why do they even worry?" Minnie argued, throwing her braid back over her shoulder like a damp horsetail. "The teachers are always telling us that if you can _see_ the wildfire with your own eyes, you're as good as dead. If the fires are close enough to the school for the alarms to go off, we'll already know we're doomed."

Wendell clearly had an argument prepared in his head, though he chose not to use. A rational debate with a ten-year-old was about as rare as a purple unicorn. "At any rate, Hermione, what have you been doing with your very short day?"

"A lot of planning, mostly," Hermione told her father as she made her way down the remaining few stairs. "I was actually planning on going to Sydney on Saturday."

"In one day?" Minnie asked, sounding skeptical. "It takes hours to drive to Sydney from Wonthaggi."

"No, I have my own arranged means the travel," Hermione assured her, not sure that even she could survive that long of a car ride. "I'm going to be leaving early, so it's no worries."

Minnie shrugged and went back to staring down at the floor, beginning to squish in her still squelching-wet sneakers.

"But actually, the reason I'm saying so is because I was wondering if Minnie would like to go with me."

Now Minnie's attention had been captured once again, staring up at her older sister, her eyes wide with curiosity as tried to figure out just what her sister was planning and how magic would be involved.

"Minnie, why don't you come upstairs with me?" Hermione then offered before her sister could blurt anything out in front of their still unaware-of-magic father. "I'll help you dry off."

Minnie didn't seem to need any sort of further prompting as she raced up the staircase past her sister, and even led the way to Hermione's room. By the time Hermione reached the guestroom, Minnie was already standing in the middle of the floor, hopping up and down in her shoes with a towel in her hand.

"Shoes off, Minnie," Hermione ordered the little girl as she made her way in. "Put them over the air vent so they can dry. You probably won't be able to wear them to school tomorrow."

Minnie promptly obeyed, then rushed back to her previous spot, almost squealing like an over-excited puppy.

"Undo your plait so we can get your hair completely dry as well."

Again, Minnie obeyed her older sister with no hesitation, as though to do so would be to delay whatever secret the woman was preparing to tell her. Hermione was actually surprised to see how bushy Minnie's hair really was, even when damp; so much like her own had been at that age.

"So you had quite a first day of school, from what I understand," Hermione said, taking the towel and beginning to run Minnie's hair through it.

Minnie nodded wordlessly, but her expression spoke volumes. Her previous excitement all but vanished and the little girl went back to her previous guilt and stared down at the floor.

"Minnie," Hermione had to ask, "did you do all that with your school alarm system?"

Minnie spun her head around fast, her eyes wide with horror at what she was potentially being accused of.

"Not on purpose!" the girl tried to defend herself. "It was that accidental magic-thing you were telling me about before! I swear!"

"Here," Hermione directed as she gave up on the towel and extracted her wand. "Hold your arms out. I'll dry your clothes. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"It was Ty and Tigue Hatcher," Minnie complained vocally, "and my stupid new teacher!" Those boys were flicking rubbish and balls of paper at my head for nearly a half hour, and Mr. was too dim to even notice! I am _so_ glad I'm not going to have to have him for year six next year!"

Hermione sighed and shook her head, nearly laughing at the intensity of her little sister's emotions. "Turn around now."

Minnie turned her back to Hermione, still holding out her arms. "Do you think the Ministry of Magic is going to come looking for me now?"

"I don't know," Hermione confessed honestly. "If they wanted to talk to you, they probably would have come and found you already. Mechanical systems breaking down really aren't especially extraordinary, so they'll probably just let it go this time…unless the people conducting the investigation find some reason to suspect something out of the ordinary."

The corners of Minnie's mouth began twitching from side to side. "Has anyone ever gone to jail because of accidental magic?"

Hermione sighed again, sliding her wand back into her pocket as soon Minnie appeared to be completely dry. The explanation Hermione had given seemed to be doing nothing to make Minnie feel better. It only seemed to be serving to give the girl more things to worry about.

"Let's try talking about happy things for a bit, shall we?" Hermione plucked the quilt up off the end of her bed. "Here. Take this, wrap yourself up, and then have a seat." Hermione motioned towards the edge of the bed.

But Minnie looked up at her sister with delightfully skeptic eyes, which Hermione previously didn't think could be possible. Though she still did as her older sister said, wrapping herself in the quilt and taking a seat on the bed beside Hermione—leaning against her shoulder.

"Are you excited to go to Sydney?" Hermione brought up.

That was what it took to finally snap the little girl out of her worry, just as quickly as she had fallen into it. She looked up at Hermione with a glimmer in her eyes whenever anything involving magic was brought up. "Alright, Hermione," she said. "What're you _really_ planning?"

Now that her little sister was finally back in her good mood, now was probably as good a time as any to tell her what was really in store. "We're not going to Sydney to sight-see, Minnie. We're going there so we can go to Buruwangnuwi."

Minnie's nose wrinkled just slightly. "Never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised," Hermione told her, placing her arm around the little girl's shoulder. "Buruwangnuwi is supposedly the Australian wizarding market."

Upon first hearing this news, Minnie was all the smiles and giggles and squeals that Hermione had been expecting, but then she suddenly stopped, as though puzzled. "What do you mean 'supposedly'?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, incidentally pulling her sister closer. "Well, my guidebook only says that if we want to find this market, our best bet would be to go to Sydney."

Minnie's brow was furrowed. "But…wouldn't a bunch of shops always be in the same place?" she asked. "Where else would they be?"

Inhaling deeply, Hermione considered her next words carefully. "If you learn one thing as a Muggle-born witch, Minnie, it's that the wizarding world will always surprise you. And when your information says something that does not seem like it makes sense, you can expect it to be something you can't even imagine."

Minnie nodded against her sister's side, accepting the explanation just as Hermione had given it to her. "How are we going to get there anyway?" she did ask, though. "Are we really going to be driving or taking the train? That is going to be brutal!"

"No," Hermione told her, "we're going to be using wizarding methods of transportation."

Minnie looked up at her sister's face, her interest clearly peaked.

"We're going to travel by fire," Hermione explained. "It's called the Floo Network. We step into a fireplace, drop what is called Floo Powder, we call out the name of the place, and the fire will take us there."

"We won't get burned?" the little girl asked the obvious question.

"It hasn't happened to me yet." Suddenly, Hermione thought of something. "And before you ask, no, I have no idea why that is or how it works."

"It's just magic, right?" Minnie finished the statement and Hermione nodded in agreement, more out of exhaustion than anything else.


	8. Chapter 7 Sydney

**Chapter 7  
Sydney**

The morning the two sisters were getting ready to leave for Buruwangnuwi, Minnie was hopping up and down like a Cornish Pixie on cocaine. Up in the attic, Hermione could hear various rustling and crashing sounds coming from Minnie's bedroom that made her worry about the things her sister might be packing that might lead their parents to suspect they would be doing anything other than touring the Sydney Opera House or taking in the beach scene.

"Minnie, are you alright up there?" she finally had to ask after an especially loud series of crashes.

"Yes," Minnie managed to shout down the staircase just before another profound noise that Hermione could not determine, followed by the sound of Minnie's rushing footsteps.

"You do know we're only going for one day, right?"

"Uh huh," the little girl replied.

Hermione huffed under her breath and began tapping her fingers against the door to the attic, all sorts of nasty little thoughts pinging her head about everything that could possibly go wrong between the two of them.

_No,_ Hermione told herself, shaking her head in an effort to shake them all out. _It will all be fine. Minnie will have a good time and I'm going to handle everything just fine. Minnie might be some wet-behind-the-ears Muggle-born, but I am not…at least not anymore. Whatever little surprises of magic that come up, I'll be able to handle it._ Hermione inhaled deeply and moved away to lean against the wall of the hallway. _It will all be fine._

It took a few moments for Hermione to realize that her little mental ramblings had included nothing about retrieving what she needed to revive her parents memories while at the market.

"Ready!"

Hermione was shocked back to reality by a very loud declaration and the image of Minnie standing in the doorway in…possibly one of the most bizarre wardrobe coordinations that Hermione had ever seen. On her feet were clunky hiking boots, binoculars strung over her neck, and her backpack was stuffed so full with who-knows-what, it looked like it was about to burst. She looked more like she was going on safari than to Sydney.

"Minnie," she had to ask, "have you ever _been_ shopping before?"

Minnie crossed her arms in front of her chest and held her stance steady. "But Hermione, we are venturing into unknown territory. Who knows what we could come up against?"

Hermione might have tried a bit harder to protest were it not for the fact that she knew all too well from experience that Minnie was probably correct in taking everything she might have had with her to Sydney. She still had really no idea of just what would be involved in getting to Buruwangnuwi or what would be waiting for them once they got there. So Hermione simply relented and allowed her little sister to lead them down the hallway.

"How do we get there exactly?" Minnie suddenly asked. "After the Floo-thingy, I mean."

"I'm not sure," Hermione confessed, trying to keep her voice low so as not to awaken their parents. "The guide book didn't have a lot of details. It just said that if we wanted to go to Buruwangnuwi, then we had to go to the Australian Museum of Wizarding and Natural Magical History first."

"So…you are taking me, an innocent legal minor, into a situation of potential child endangerment, and you don't even have the slightest idea of what you need to do in order to protect me?"

Hermione groaned inwardly. It was clear that Minnie had been staying up late at night watching those old reruns of Law & Order before falling asleep on the sofa. Hopefully it had nothing to do with a potential fear of falling through her bedroom floor again.

Suddenly, both girls flinched as they heard the sounds of movement and moaning coming from their parents' bedroom. It was a combination of rumbling sheets, early morning groans, and feet moving from a warm mattress to the cold floor. "Hermione, is that you and Minnie out there?"

"Sorry, Monica! Did we wake you up?" Hermione tried to sound calm, but her stomach was bubbling ferociously, like a cauldron on full boil. "Minnie and I were just leaving. We'll be out of your ears in just a moment." Once again, Hermione found herself returning to her debate from last night, as to whether or not she should have dosed her parents with sleeping potions so they could not stumble upon herself and Minnie using the Floo Network. At their age, one of their parents might have a heart attack from the shock of seeing their two—even if they didn't know so yet—daughters vanish in a flash of green flames

Hermione heard her mother make an indistinguishable sound that sounded like an agreement of some sort. Once she was confident in the quiet, Hermione continued leading her little sister down the stairs, a slight shiver still tingling on her spin. It felt so strange to call her mother by her first name, even if Monica wasn't really her true name. But, with any luck, that sort of confusion would all be put to an end very soon.

And potentially open up a thousand other confusions to be added into her life.

Once in the living soon, Minnie stood off to the side while she watched her sister struggle with the glass covering of the fireplace.

"I actually can't remember the last time we had a fire in this thing," the little girl remarked. "Are you sure it will still work as a Floo-thing."

Hermione nodded while her eyes continued to rest intently on the fireplace in front of her before finally giving up and drawing her wand. "I filed to have this fireplace installed as a stop on the Floo Network the last time I came to Australia, just in case an emergency would come about here I would need it. But I would have received a notice if the stop became inactive. We should still be able to use it."

Finally, Hermione was able to pry the safety gate away from the fireplace with the assistance of some minor magic, although Minnie appeared quite impressed. Granted, Minnie had seen her older sister perform little to no real magic, so even the most minimal spell must have been greatly astounding. "Alright, Minnie. It's all set. Grab the little pouch over there. It has the Floo Powder in it."

Not hesitating, Minnie snatched the leather pouch that her sister had set off to the side of the hearth, taking a tiny peek inside.

"Now climb inside with me." Hermione watched the little girl join her with even looking up from her investigations inside the Floo Powder pouch. "Hold on tight, Minnie."

Her little sister obeyed promptly, grasping at her sister's side while Hermione took the pouch from her. She reached inside, and grabbed a fair amount of the gritty, silvery powder before flinging it down to the stone ground.

"The Australian Museum of Wizarding and Natural Magical History!"

Hermione could feel her younger sister's fingernails dig in tighter against her side as the green flames shot up around them, engulfing them.

* * *

Minnie was clearly unprepared for how fast the Floo Network truly worked. When Hermione tried to pull her out of the fireplace and into the museum, the little girl stood fast in her position, eyes clenched shut and still holding tight to Hermione, doing a fairly good job of keeping her sister inside the hearth with her.

"Minnie," Hermione urged her sister gently, "you can open your eyes now. We're here."

At first, Minnie appeared reluctant to open her eyes, let alone move. But as Hermione began leading her forward, Minnie appeared to show a little more trust in her sister, and eventually peeked her eyes open, and upon seeing that nothing was wrong, followed her sister out of the sooty fireplace, clinging tightly to Hermione's side.

As they stepped out, the two sisters noted the wall behind them lined with identical fire places. This was a new sight for Minnie, but Hermione had seen such scenes in many wizarding places that accepted vast amounts of traffic and visitors. But as they stepped out further, the wizarding influences and Muggle influences of where they were began to merge together.

The place they found themselves truly was a museum, just like any Muggle one Hermione had been in growing up. The floor was made of shiny slate that created a pleasant, sharp sound when the sisters began walking across them. The windows were set high enough on the walls that no one could have possibly be able to look through them and take attention away from the exhibits, though it was a bit odd being in a museum before the sun was even up.

On the other end of the massive hall, they could see the beginning of various museum displays. This was where any resemblance to a Muggle museum ended. All around the circumference of the circling hall were dioramas with everything from taxidermy models of magical creatures in their natural habitats. The large skeleton of a sea serpent hung fronm the ceiling, much more massive than Hermione had previously thought they could be.

More halls upon halls led to more exhibits detailing everything a person would ever need to know about how Aboriginal cultural had affected the modern wizarding world (possibly more). Long rolls of animal-skin parchment showed incantations written in the Aboriginal culture, though they _were_ written in Roman letters, so Hermione almost wondered if the animal skins were just something for dramatic effect.

"Hermione," Minnie suddenly asked as they walked past yet another moving diorama sculpture depicting the first meeting between British and Aboriginal wizards, "what's going to happen when Mum and Dad get their memories back?"

Hermione found herself caught off guard. With no opportunity to think of any way to 'sugar-coat' an answer for her sister, Hermione found herself telling her sister the very blunt truth. "They're going to remember that I'm their daughter, also, and not just a family friend," she said, watching a flying spear circle the room, wondering how it hadn't killed anyone yet. "It might be a bit odd and uncomfortable at first, but you want us to be all together as a family, don't you?"

Hermione watched her sister as she eventually nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth twitching uncomfortably. "But what about when they realize they are the Grangers and then remember everything back in Britain?" the younger girl brought up yet another point. "Will we all be going back to England? Me included?"

The museum hall suddenly became very, very quiet, especially since the two sisters were the only ones there. Hermione deflected the uncomfortable question, almost subconsciously. "By next year, you'll be attending school away from home for most of the year."

Minnie looked away, but it was still obvious that what her older sister told her had done nothing to comfort her. "Am I going to be going to your school?"

Yet another complicated question with an even more complicated answer that Hermione had no idea how to respond to.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I don't think I have ever heard of anyone at Hogwarts being from Australia. Then again…this is a very unusual situation we have in our family. Your parents are both British citizens, and you have an older sister that attended there."

But for as much as Hermione found herself at pause with these questions, she continued on. "If Mum and Dad do end up wanting to go back to England, it might be easier for you to attend Hogwarts anyway. But let's not make plans just yet. Neither of us know how long it will take to revive our parents' memories."

"I don't imagine that anyone in the market will be conducting business so early in the morning. What do you say we do some exploring?"

When Hermione said this, she had envisioned going deeper into the museum, and seeing everything more that just _had_ to be there. However, Minnie's short attention span and attraction to bright colors and strange noise soon had the girl going in a very different direction.

"Gift shop!" she screeched, immediately pulling her older sister in the direction of a very gaudy-looking arch in the wall, complete with dressed-up kangaroos and dingoes waving hello and shouting 'G'day, mate!' in the most painfully thick Australian accents Hermione had ever heard.

"Minnie, wouldn't you rather see the exhibits?" she tried to persuade Minnie in the other direction. "We have the whole museum to ourselves, after all, and you could probably learn a lot of the things you need to know about the wizarding world before going off to school."

Granted, a lot of it had to do with Hermione simply not wanting to go into the gift shop, but she hoped that she might be able to convince Minnie to abandon the pursuit on her own. There had to be at least a hundred things in the museum that her sister would find more fascinating than snow globes and gaudily-colored robes. After all, Minnie had been raised as a Muggle, and there still had to be a certain amount of mysticism and excitement towards ordinary facets of wizarding life.

But instead, Minnie just glared up at her sister with her hands on her hips. "You mean you came all the way to Australia, and you aren't even going to buy souvenirs for your children?"

Hermione might have argued more, but she found herself being pushed in the direction of the shop with a surprising amount of force for a ten-year-old. Before she could even think of anything to say in resistance, Hermione found herself inside, Minnie trying to drag her in ten different directions at once.

One wall was entirely made up of small orange robes, complete with pairs of moving ears on the hood and a very large pouch sewn to the front, which of course, Minnie rushed right towards and began fishing through.

Suddenly, the sisters found themselves pounced upon by an exceptionally eager, over-caffeinated salesgirl. "These are our Kangaroo Ponchos, one of our most popular items."

"Cool!" Minnie immediately began digging through the racks. "How old are your kids again?"

When Kangaroo Ponchos started winding up in Hermione's free hands, however, she found herself quite confused. "Minnie, what are you doing?"

Minnie looked up at her sister, as though the answer was obvious. "You're their mother. _You_ buy them clothes. I'm going to go find toys and candy."

By the time Hermione was able to coax Minnie out of the tacky little shop, the museum was filled with sunlight, as well as great multitudes of people. Minnie, on the other hand, was somehow managing to lug along a shopping bag half her size filled with stuffed koalas that gave hugs and boxes of candy that seemed to change colors every three seconds.

By now, there were a lot more people in the museum, crowds even. Children ran around screaming their little heads off, balloons tied to their wrists, dragging mothers and fathers the way Hermione had found herself being dragged by Minnie. And all of them seemed to have a much better idea of where they were going than she and her sister did.

"Excuse me," Hermione finally called out to a passing man. "My sister and I want to go to Buruwangnuwi. I was told if we came here, we would be able to be taken there, but just how exactly do we go about finding out how to get there?"

The man kept glancing from Hermione, down to Minnie, then back up to Hermione, as though what he saw was something a lot more spectacular than a pair of lost siblings. "This is you first trip to Buruwangnuwi?"

"Yes," Hermione confessed. "I'm British, you see, and my sister is Muggle-born. So neither of us has had any sort of profound exposure to the Australian wizarding world."

The man smiled with an odd sort of twinkle in his eye, the sort of smirk someone had whenever they knew something another person didn't.

"If you need to find your way anywhere inside the museum, all you have to do is use one of the compasses," he said, pointing up above his head. When Hermione finally looked up, she could see several dozen glints of slow moving light flying at various levels of the hall.

At first, Hermione couldn't be sure just what these floating things were or just how they were supposed to help them find anything. But then, of course, in typical fashion, Minnie simply reached up to snatch one such glinted object that was just passing over her head, not possibly taking enough time to consider what possible consequences her actions might have had. But Hermione found herself even too curious to bring this up.

Held between Minnie's hands was a circular object that took up most of the space in her palms, the surface a mosaic of gold, blue, and green. And before either of the sisters could give the object any further examinations, the multicolored cover split in half and opened like the wings of a scarab beetle to reveal more engraved writing carved into solid gold.

**Hello!  
I am a "Follow the Leader" Compass.  
Please use me to find your way  
through the museum.**

_Property of A.M.W.N.M.H._

While Hermione was still staring in awe at the shining object, Minnie broke the clasp holding the compass together and opened it to a glass surface and more engraving on the inside metal.

**Tell me what you need  
to find, and I will  
point you in the right direction.**

"Let me see that, Minnie," Hermione said, taking the compass right out of her sister's hands. Hermione was vaguely aware of the sound of Minnie huffing under her breath as she held the compass up closer to her face.

Beneath the glass-covered bottom half of the compass, most of the surface was covered with several different 'wrong way's written in bold red letters. In one small section towards the top of the compass were the words 'right way' in green.

As Hermione began to turn in a circle, she noticed the compass needle wasn't moving, as though it were stuck. Then, Hermione looked back up at the engraving on the top half of the compass, and decided to give something a try.

Finally, Hermione said, sounding rather unsure, "The place that will take us to Buruwangnuwi."

Suddenly, as though by magic (which it likely was), the compass needle sprang to life, pointing to the very vague right. Not having any better idea of her own, Hermione took her little sister by the hand and began follow in the compass in every direction it pointed, though it often did feel like they were just going in circles.

"Hermione!" Minnie whined as she trudged alongside her sister. "This is taking too long!"

As though responding to Minnie's bored complaints, the compass snapped back to one piece and its beetle-like wings.

"Whoa! That's more like it!" Minnie exclaimed as she sped off after the flying compass.

"Minnie!" Hermione tried to stop her, but there was clearly nothing that was going to do that, short of a spontaneously manifesting brick wall.

On shoes not meant for running, Hermione chased her little sister through museum displays, visiting families, and finally through broom cupboards and dark dripping corridors. Hermione didn't even have any idea how they had gotten there or if they were even still in the museum. And Minnie just kept running head-on after that bug-compass, as though she hadn't even noticed any of it.

"Minnie!" Hermione shouted after her. "Minnie, this is not funny!"

The only reason Hermione ended up being able to catch her little sister was because Minnie had come to a dead stop on a ledge of some sort with the compass-beetle hovering just in front of her. But before Hermione could read her sister the riot act, she was forced to take a closer look at their surroundings. A whirlwind of running, hard breathing, and shoe-related foot pains had taken them to a dark and dank cave with a small circle of light off in the distance. The only evidence of any human activity was the steel door at their backs, the concrete platform they stood on, and a staircase leading down to a rotting dock and several wooden boats floating on the black water.

"This is it?" Minnie was the first to speak the obvious. "How is…_this_ supposed to take us anywhere? How is it even floating?"

Hermione chased her younger sister into the rickety boat, but as soon as she had both feet on the deck, the boat began moving forward, seemingly on its own. It was then that it occurred to Hermione that none of the boats had been tied to the dock. As the dock became smaller and smaller in the distance, and the possibility of being able to jump back simply disappeared, Hermione took an unsteady seat towards the back. The boat tilted forward slightly because of Minnie leaning over the front, trying to see just how the boat was managing to move without any effort on their part. But once they were out of the cave and into the sunlight, Minnie let her sister know, very loudly, exactly what forces were at work.

"Hermione!" The girl threw herself over the front of the boat to the point where her face had to be mere inches above the water. "Sea turtles! Come look!"

Sure enough, just below the surface of the water was a pair of sea turtles, each with ropes tired around their shells, pulling the boats forward.

"Sea turtles are endangered species. Is it okay for the wizards to use them for work like this? How do they know where they are going? Are they magic sea turtles? Is that how they know how to pull the boat, and is that why it's okay for the wizards to use them?"

Minnie's voice chattered on and on, not offering any really pauses where any of her questions could be answer, so Hermione allowed her little sister to continue on with talking to herself while Hermione found herself continuing to stare back the way they came, wondering just how crazy it was to trust a turtle's sense of direction.

"I'm gonna pet one!" These words barely registered in Hermione's mind before she saw her little sister dangling over the edge of the boat and Hermione holding tight to the girl's shoes.

"Minnie, get back in here!" Hermione shouted, even though it seemed fairly clear that Minnie would not be able to climb back in the boat without her help.

But Minnie didn't seem ready to cooperate. "You stopped me from seeing the shark. How could I possibly get hurt by these?"

"You don't know that!" Hermione argued as she began dragging her back into the boat by her legs. "You don't know what could have been done to these things to make them be of use to wizards!" Granted, Hermione wasn't quite sure _why_ someone would make a sea turtle dangerous to humans, let alone how they would go about doing it, but given that Hermione wasn't sure just what sort of lie would be able to explain it away to their parents, it was probably better to be cautious.

Minnie, however, did not seem to agree. "You suck the fun out of everything! Even magic!" she pouted, crossing her arms and slumping against the edge of the boat. "Fun-sucker!"

Hermione snorted, but decided to let the argument go. There was no use in trying to use logic in a fight with an angry ten-year-old, she had learned that much already. So she left Minnie to sulk on her own while Hermione stared up at the sky, feeling the sea turtles pulling them forward and the waves rocking them from side to side.

"Where are they taking us?"

Hermione looked up to see her sister staring out ahead of them into the vast ocean. "To Buruwangnuwi, I suppose," she told Minnie.

"Yeah, I know, but where is _that_?"

But before Hermione could offer any further answers, something ahead of them came into view, something very big. "Oh…my…."

"…Godric!" Hermione finished

They were ships, at least a half dozen of them, all floating in one giant circle. Hermione knew right away that there was nothing Muggle about what she was seeing. These were old wood ships, like from _Peter Pan_. They all floated together on the moving ocean, but none of them seemed to be going anywhere. The sea turtles just kept taking them closer and closer, and the ships grew larger and larger.

"Pirate ships!" Minnie screeched, rushing to lean over the bow of the tiny boat. "Hermione, look at all the pirate ships! We're heading right for them!"

Hermione actually had to physically grab her sister to keep her from falling out into the ocean. "What's holding them all together?" Minnie asked, still trying to pull herself forward with Hermione holding her back.

This was a question answered fast enough as they came closer to the cluster of ships. Floating in the center of the circle of ships was a massively massive octopus peaking out of the ocean, five of its long tentacles holding tight to the ships and keeping them held together. She certainly had previous experience with giant cephalopods, what with the Giant Squid living in the Black Lake at Hogwarts, although the squid had never been quite as…exhibitional as this creature was.

"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed loudly. "Hermione, look at that thing! I don't think my school is as big as it! I don't think the Sydney Opera House is as big as that!"

Then, the boat jolted quite suddenly before it was lifted completely out of the water. A quick glance downward revealed the reason behind it, though Hermione found herself wishing she hadn't been brave enough to look. One of the octopus' idle tentacles was lifting them up out of the water and was now carrying them towards one of the ships.

"_Wheeeee!_" Minnie shrieked at the top of her lungs while Hermione tried her best to remain a stoic calm, even though her heart was about ready to pound out of her chest.

When Hermione appeared to be taking too long to get out of the boat, the octopus gave it a shake to jolt her back into reality. Only after Hermione had stepped out of the boat did the octopus take their little boat back, dumping the sea turtles back into the water and allowing them to carry it back to the docks, while the giant tentacle slipped back underwater.

"Bye-bye, turtles! Bye-bye, octopus!" Minnie called out to it. "See you soon!"

Hermione also offered a weak sort of wave before turning around to face the Australian market place.

In many ways, Buruwangnuwi seemed no different than any other wizarding marketplace. People were all doing their very best to shout over everyone else's shouts about everything from prices to broom models. There were even a great many of the familiar smells that Hermione could remember from Diagon Alley. But there were also a lot of ways in which the floating market was completely unique to itself. Food venders shooed and screamed at seagulls trying to steal their wares, children were yelled at for trying to fish off the sides of the boat, and concerned family members stood around those hoisted over the ships' edges, suffering from sea sickness.

Also, there were the occasional teenage boy swinging from the various ropes and sails tied to the mast…and Minnie trying to climb up and join them, and Hermione barely hanging onto her sister by her ankles.

"Hold on," she tried to say, somehow managing to hold tight to the little girl. "We're not here just to have fun. I have an entire list of things I need to get in order to try different strategies of memory reviving." By now people were starting to stare. Then again, Minnie dangling from a suspended rope, Hermione dangling from a suspended Minnie; it would have been fairly hard not to. "Unless you know of any place I might be able to get those things back in Wonthaggi."

Swinging in the slight breeze, Minnie's eyes drifted upward, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I don't," she confessed.

Hermione shot a glare up towards her little sister, hoping she wouldn't have to convey the obvious. Finally, though, Minnie did let go of the rope, causing the two sisters to fall into a rather undignified pile on the boat deck. More staring still…even after Hermione and Minnie pulled themselves to their feet and dusted themselves off.

Although much of Hermione's energy and focus still went towards keeping Minnie from running off in every direction, she was still given the opportunity to observe her new surroundings. The wooden planks were caked with years' worth of sea salt, and shifted unsteadily beneath their feet. Minnie, however, did not appear to be the least bit apprehensive. Her eyes were wide and darting in every which direction, as though trying to take in everything humanly possible. And every new site drew forth even more excitement.

Most of the venders had simply set up makeshift stands along the deck, almost like an olden day marketplace. But once Minnie managed to lead her into the ship's interior, Hermione did find something more resembling an actual shop: an apothecary. And just like the one in Diagon Alley, there were shelves upon shelves of bottled ingredients that Hermione was much better at identifying now than she was her first visit inside one of these shops. There were also a great many barrels of dry ingredients, that all-too-familiar disgusting-sweet smell that all apothecaries seemed to carry, complete with a balding shop owner standing at the counter who was nearly as wide as Professor Slughorn had been.

When Minnie asked a bit too loudly, "How is the ship still floating with that guy standing so close to the bow?", Hermione quickly clamped her hand over the little girl's mouth and suggested, at a whisper, that Minnie should go explore the store, and _not_ break anything. The shopkeeper regarded the pair with a very patronizing look as Minnie hid herself behind a row of product shelves and Hermione sheepishly slid her shopping list across the store counter: all Potion ingredients that recent Healing journals had said when added to traditional Mind-Stimulating Potions, created a special emphasis on lost memories.

There had never been any mention of just how those memories had gone _about_ becoming lost, however, but Hermione was willing to try anything that offered possible results.

While the rubenesque shopkeeper prepared Hermione's list of ingredients, Hermione kept one eye on the constant flash of movement throughout the store signaling Minnie's presence. In the back of her mind, she kept anticipating hearing the sound of a very expensive crash and turning around to see the shop owner's hand outstretched to enforce the store's "You break it, you bought it" policy. Luckily, the two of them were able to leave the ship-shop without incident, though accompanied the constant mirage of Minnie asking just what kind of potion required platypus eyes, and _who_ would willingly drink it.

In order to get from one ship to another, you needed to cross these rickety rope-and-plank bridges that seemed older than the pirate ships themselves, something Minnie found much more amusing than Hermione did. Especially when the other Aussie wizarding children introduced her to the practice of swinging the bridge back and forth in perfect unison while all the adults around him screamed.

Despite Minnie's constant pulling and tugging, Hermione still managed to maintain some degree of control over her little sister. That was, however, something that came to an abrupt end when the pair of them boarded the third ship, and Minnie could not be persuade to go any other way but forward.

"Books!" Minnie shouted, pointing to one of the ship stalls with a fairly obvious sign depicting a multicolored book stack hanging above the entrance. Minnie began tugging at her older sister's sleeve, trying to persuade Hermione to follow her. "Please!"

Hermione found herself puzzled. "Since when are you a bookworm?"

The little girl looked up at her, affronted, almost as though Hermione had insulted her. "I like to read!" Minnie argued. "I just like to read about stuff that's interesting."

"Like magic?"

Minnie nodded her head vehemently. "_Very_ interesting!"

And still, Minnie pulled her older sister all the way into the shop, as though it were even necessary. If only the little girl knew that, even nearly at the age of thirty, Hermione needed no prompting to enter a bookshop.

The book shop was completely under deck, utterly lacking in natural light. The ceiling was almost completely covered with tiny, glowing lanterns, which at first made Hermione question the wisdom of it all, until she took a closer look and realized that each lantern was filled with dozens of flickering lights, and upon even closer look, fireflies. Well, certainly a lot safer than fire and kerosene, but it also raised so many more questions, such as 'How did one go about taking care of fireflies?' 'Could fireflies really emit that much light with the aid of magic?', and 'Was there really nothing simpler than this?'

At any rate, there were plenty of other little children running around the shop unsupervised and there seemed to be very little that Minnie could break or use to get herself killed.

"Go browse around," Hermione told her sister. "I'm going to ask the front desk if they have anything that could possibly be useful in helping Mum and Dad."

By the time Hermione actually did look down, Minnie had already vanished. She had probably even run off before Hermione had told her she could leave. After a quick glance around the bookstore and not seeing the girl, Hermione just shook her head and told herself once again that her sister would be fine as she made her way to the rather idle young clerk leaning against the counter.

Startled by having an actual visitor, the teenage girl was shocked back into attention. "Is there anything I can help you with, ma'am?"

"Do have any books specifically on Memory Charms?"

"Their execution or the after-effects?" the girl scratched her nose.

"After-effects."

"That would be under our Healing section," the girl informed her, pointing to an area of shelves at the far end of the shop. "You might have to dig a bit, but I know that I most certainly saw a few titles while I was dusting the shelves."

"Hermione!" a sudden shriek was heard from somewhere in the store. "The pictures move!"

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see her little sister holding a massive tome in her arms, pressing her nose to the illustrated pages and her eyes gleaming as though she had never seen anything so spectacular. Then again, Hermione could remember how astounded she had been when she had first seen the wonders of wizarding print.

When she finally did turn back to face the counter, she saw the store employee staring at Minnie as well, along with what appeared to be a sympathetic expression on her face. "Muggle-born?" she asked, tilting her head in Minnie's direction.

"We both are," Hermione confided. "She's my little sister."

It was then that Hermione also recalled one part of the deal she had made with Minnie in exchange for helping her recover their parents' memories: that she would teach her about the wizarding world. Granted, Minnie hadn't done very much to help in Hermione's quest, and there was probably very little she could do, but all the same, Hermione supposed that deal or not, helping her younger sister was still something a _responsible_ only sibling would do.

"I guess I'm also looking for something," she then said, "that can help her."

Vagueness aside, the shop girl still seemed to understand exactly what Hermione was talking about. Of course, this probably wasn't her first incident of assisting unsure Muggle-borns.

"Oh, yes; of course!" the counter clerk said, moving towards a shelf of books behind the counter. "Well, the obvious place to start would be _Come Along to Coomalong_. It's a complete informative guide to Coomalong, the Australian wizarding school. Your sister looks near old enough to be getting her letter soon, especially if she's Muggle-born. They like to give the Muggle-borns their letter a little earlier than all the other children. Give the families a bit of time to get used to the idea, even if they already have had wizarding children before them."

"Alright." Hermione took the deep green book, flipping through a few of the pages. "Minnie, come over her, would you?" she called, passing the leather tome into her sister's hands.

"Also, if you're interested, the store also keeps a list of recommended reading for Muggle-born children; books that will best prepare them for when the time finally does come for them to go off to school."

As the stack of books became higher and higher, Minnie's eyes began to grow wide and rather worried. "But I don't have enough money for all of these!" Minnie protested, staring down into the stack of books in her arms."I don't even have the _right_ kind of money!"

Hermione sighed and reached into her own purse. She supposed this would count as 'helping' as well. "Why don't you go explore some more, Minnie? I still have some shopping of my own to do."

Minnie certainly didn't need any further invitation. As she bolted back into the stack, Hermione made her way to the section she had been directed to before. A few titles actually seemed to have a fair amount of promise.

"Hermione?" she heard her little sister's voice behind her once again. "Do I have to read _all_ these books before I go to school?"

But before Hermione could completely turn around, she found herself crashing painfully into…something, all her books going crashing to the floor.

"Oh no," a light, dreamy sort of voice exclaimed from down on the floor, presumably to gather up the fallen bundles.

Hermione looked down to the floor to see a thin young girl in a sundress, knocked to the floor, and still attempting to gather up Hermione's books. She couldn't help but feel extraordinarily guilty just then. Everyone who must have seen this must have thought she was a horrible person. Hermione helped pull the girl up to her feet, hoping to somewhat redeem her reputation in the eyes of all these strangers.

Minnie, on the other hand, couldn't have seemed to care less about what her sister had done. Once she glanced up and looked the girl directly in the face, she appeared as though her eyes were about to popped out of their sockets. "Magdalene Kelly!" she gasped.

Peaking through her overgrown fringe, the blonde girl expressed the same level of surprise as she hurried (rather ungracefully) to stand to her feet. "Minnie Wilkens, is that you?" she asked, taking Minnie's hand so that she could stand too. "Don't tell me that you're a Muggle-born as well?"

Then recalling her older sister, Minnie turned to introduce her little friend. "Hermione, this is Magdalene Kelly!" the little girl introduced the two. "She's one of the sisters who lives in the yellow house I showed you!"

"Yes, I remember," Hermione assured her. "Who could forget that long string of names Minnie had recited?

"Wow! So you're a Muggle witch just like me?" Minnie asked in a tone full of wonder. "So you actually go to the wizarding school in Australia?"

Minnie was completely enthralled by now. The information that her older sister had been unble to deliver before was now sitting perfectly gift-wrapped in front of her.

The girl known as Magdalene nodded softly. "Coomalong, the five of us," she admitted. "We leave for school tomorrow. Nothing like waiting until the last minute, huh?"

Minnie's eyes went wide. "You're all here, then?"

"Yes, Martina is getting a new cauldron, Melinda and Maxine _should_ be picking up new parchment and quills for us, but Maxine is probably off looking at new broom models, and if Marcella hasn't found some boy to flirt with by now—"

Now it was Hermione's turn to become interested in the conversation. "All of you are Muggle-born witches?" she asked, her brain already becoming awash with statistical calculations. "The chances of that have to be—"

"One in a thousand," Magdalene answered for her, sounding quite proud as she did so. "They've even written a book about us. They call us the Kelly Phenomenon."

Magdalene's back became a little bit straighter and her head a little higher, showing just how proud she was of this fact. "And now it would seem we have another Wonthaggi native to be added to the ranks of Australia's Muggle-borns! I smell another book in the works; and they are going to love the fact that there will be another 'M' name to add to the list."

"Just please tell me that the Hatcher boys aren't Muggle-borns as well!" Minnie begged the older girl to tell her.

Magdalene groaned and rolled her eyes, showing that she too was quite familiar with 'the Hatcher boys'. "Well, the twins wouldn't even be going to school for year six if they were wizards; they would already be at Coomalong. As for the younger two, I can't really say, but I think knowing that Ty and Tigue won't be going to school with us is good enough news."

It was at that point that Miss Magdalene Kelly finally took a fair amount of time "And you're…Hermione also?"

"Oh, yeah!" Minnie remembered. "Hermione's an old friend of my parents. They actually named me after her. And you'll never guess what! She's a witch too! She told me after she caught me using accidental magic, and now she's teaching me everything I need to know about being a witch too."

"You know who else might be a great deal of help to you? The rest of my sisters!" Magdalene told her, Minnie hopping up and down at the suggestion. "You can help me find them after we head out of here."

It seemed to be something of a brush-off comment, though, because as soon as she was finished, her complete focus shifted onto Hermione, as though still not sure what to think of the situation.

"I never would have thought the town dentists for knowing anything about magic," she said. "How _did_ you go about meeting them again?"

Hermione had told this cover story so many times to so many people in this country, it felt like absolutely nothing to tell it yet again. But somehow, it didn't seem to trigger the same reaction of believability in Magdalene Kelly, In fact, it almost seemed like the twelve-year-old was sizing Hermione up, as though trying to decide if she had ever seen her somewhere else before.

Hermione just hoped that the going's-on of the British wizarding world attracted very little interest in Australia.

"Soooo…," the girl took her time to assess the story, "you just happened to decide to go on holiday in an Australian Muggle town—and not a very well-known one at that—and just _happened_ to run into the Wilkens', who just happen to be fresh from Britain as well. And you were such good friends that they named their first born after you, and are letting you stay in their home, even though you haven't seen each other in more than ten years."

Now was probably a good time to deflect. "You'll be going to school with Minnie for the next five years. I'm sure you can used that time to ask _her_ all the details you want."

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Magdalene finally relented suddenly began looking from side to side. "Speaking of which, where is Minnie?"

But before Hermione could respond, she glanced down to see a very empty spot of floor where Minnie Wilkens used to be standing. A further, more frantic glance around the bookshop showed that Minnie was nowhere in plain sight, or even hidden sight after a few laps around the shelves revealed.

"Alright, don't panic!" Magdalene tried to assure Hermione as they rushed out of the under-deck store." "We're on a circle of boats, remember? Meaning Minnie can only be on one of these boats. And believe me, if she had fallen into the ocean, we would know. I have seen it happen more than once, and people go into an absolute frenzy."

Hermione nodded, wanting desperately to believe the younger girl at this point in time. "Magdalene, you know this market. What is here that a ten-year-old would be most likely to run off to?"

Magdalene's eyes drifted upward as she tried to remember. "Well, lots of the food stands sell sweet things, and there's a candy shop on the ship three to the left. And then there's a toy store right next to that. There's a Quidditch store, but Minnie doesn't even know what that is, I would think. Then there's a junk shop that sometimes has cool things…."

Hermione's feet began tapping and her fingers began fidgeting. She wished she knew more about her little sister, but none of these places really seemed like places Minnie would really run off to.

"And then there is a pet store just down the way—"

It was at those last words that Hermione froze in absolute horror. There was no telling the terrors that could be unleashed if Minnie set foot in a store like that with even the most minuscule amount of money. She asked Magdalene to lead the way, but much of the time, Hermione found herself leading most of the way.

When they were just outside the sign decorated with floating fish and cat paws swinging at them, Minnie was already outside, as though she were waiting for _them_. When Minnie finally did see her sister and her neighborhood friend, she stood on her tiptoes and waved energetically. And luckily enough, Minnie was holding no more packages than she had arrived on the boat with.

That was, at least, until a very busy looking woman came running out after Minnie, holding a ridiculous amount of shopping bags and, sure enough, something that seemed to be moving.

"Alright, miss," the clerk called after her. "Here you are! Remember, you have your kitty-care instructions in your bag, as well as…."

The clerk's words slowed to a stop while Hermione stared at her, eyes agape. Minnie took something from the clerk's arms, but even though Hermione was staring right at it, she still couldn't process what she was seeing. It was a cat: sleek black, slender, and young. And Minnie was cuddling the thing in a matter that left no doubt that the creature was hers.

"Minnie!" Hermione stuttered and stammered. "You bought a cat? H-how did you even—"

"All sales are final!" the woman shouted frantically before rushing back into the pet stall.

With the three witches left standing alone on the deck, Hermione turned her shock onto her sister. "Minnie, just—just—"

"I'm a witch now, so I have to have a cat," Minnie reasoned in a surprisingly calm voice. "Even you had a cat while you were in school. I remember you telling Mum and Dad."

"Pretty!" Magdalene reached out to scratch the cat under the chin.

No, no, no! _Not_ pretty!" Hermione tried to put a stop to any falling in love with the little creature. "Minnie, you can't possibly think you're going to be able to keep this thing, do you? The minute your mum and dad see it, they're probably going to send it to a shelter. You aren't the least bit worried about that?"

Minnie held the young cat up in front of her, its back legs dangling in midair. "I'm gonna name him Snape!" she declared proudly, a broad, laughing smile spreading across her face.

It was at that statement that Hermione made an odd sort of sound, sort of like a cross between a snort and a burst of laughter. She knew she shouldn't do anything to encourage her little sister, but she absolutely could not help it. Since first mentioning Professor Snape, Minnie had been demanding more and more stories about him. For as tormenting as all the incidents had seemed when Hermione and her friends had been living them, Minnie found them absolutely hilarious now, and even Hermione did too. She couldn't imagine what the poor cat could have already done to deserve such a fate.

"Minnie, are you listening to me?"

But Minnie didn't appear worried in the least. "Mum and Dad wouldn't do that to me," she assured her sister. "Remember, I'm a spoiled only child. And Chunga's still here, isn't he?"

Hermione tried to start up once again, but ended up just sighing and slumping her shoulders. She couldn't argue with that sort of reasoning.

"Magdalene," came a rather loud voice from off to the side, "where the Opaleye digestive tract have you been?"

When Hermione looked over her shoulder, she found herself taken quite aback at the sight of four blonde girls standing in a perfect row.

"I've been busy, Martina!" Magdalene yelled at one of them before remembering the other witches at her side. "Oh, Hermione, these are my sisters; the infamous Kelly witches."

"Do you remember all their names?" Minnie asked her. "There's Martina, Melinda, Maxine, Marcella, and…Magdalene, right here."

Hermione finally nodded, though she wasn't even going to attempt to repeat all of those names.

"Guys, you're never going to believe this!" Magdalene finally took her chance to tell them. "Minnie Wilkens is a witch too!"

The five sisters stood in a neat semicircle all around Minnie: each of them blue and green-eyed with hair in various shades of blond. Martina stood with her arms crossed over her chest, childish pigtails contrasting with an expression that seemed more fitting of a young woman in her twenties than a teenage girl. Melinda was the tallest, with long limbs like a spider, as well as having the longest hair of any of the sisters. Maxine was short and stocky with an athletic build, and Marcella, with her short skirt and too much makeup, easily appeared to be the most flirtatious of the five sisters, and deserving of Magdalene's description of her. Her eyes were constantly flicking in every direction, as though scoping out the ship for any boys she might have missed.

Then, of course, there was Magdalene, who took the liberty of introducing Minnie, the Muggle-born, and her furry little friend to the lot of them. And they took Minnie as one of them, cooing over Snape the cat, telling her about school, Quidditch, and everything else that anyone their age could conceivably talk about. Even though they might not have seen each other more than a few times a year, they all stood together as though they had been close friends their whole lives.

And so Hermione resigned herself to just standing on the sidelines and watching it all take place. At the very least, if Minnie did end up attending Coomalong instead of Hogwarts, she would be surrounded by a strong circle of friends.


	9. Chapter 8 Uncle Marty

**Chapter 8  
Uncle Marty**

Just as Minnie had predicted, her parents _did_ allow her to keep Snape, the kitten. They had been shocked, of course, but not nearly as much as Hermione had expected. But their mother had explained to Hermione that Minnie had been bringing home animals since she was old enough to walk, and that she and Wendell had decided that they could either throw a fit over every critter and have a heart attack sometime in the next three years, or just let the incidents roll off their back, and maybe live long enough to see their grandchildren.

Either way, little Snape was there to stay at the Wilkins' household.

Snape was a nice enough cat. He was always purring and wanting to be cuddled, and so far, he hadn't eaten any of the lovebirds or attacked Chunga, the lizard. Despite this, Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable around the animal, though it probably had a lot more to do with the cat's name and all the odd sentences it brought out of various members of the family. "Snape, get off my lap! Snape, stop licking my toes! Snape, give me back my underwear!" And each statement sent a very sharp chill down Hermione's spine. She still had yet to call the creature by its name. Whenever her sister's cat got on Hermione's nerves, she would simply pick up her teacher's namesake and bring him to Minnie so that she could deal with him.

One such day, however, after Snape had spent the better part of an hour 'hunting' the hems of her jeans, Hermione hoisted the animal up to take him to his 'mummy', only to find Minnie busy chatting away on the kitchen phone.

"…Oh, and you'll love to meet Hermione…yes, Hermione! She's been staying with us for almost two weeks now. She was a friend of my parents when they first came to Australia, so I don't know if you already know her or not."

Hermione approached the situation carefully, gently setting the cat on the floor. "Minnie, who are you talking to?"

But Minnie held up her finger to stop her older sister from talking. "And we went snorkeling—oh! I saw a basking shark, but Hermione made me get out of the water before I could get close…That's what I told her, but she wouldn't listen to reason! Let's see, what else…Oh! I didn't have to go to school for three days because the fire alarms are all broken…And Hermione took me to Sydney, and we went shopping, and to a museum…oh, and I have a cat now—"

"Minnie!" Hermione lunged at her sister in a way that other people might have found funny, but damn it, this was an emergency! Hermione thought her little sister might have been smart enough to realize that the wizarding world was meant to be kept a secret without having the point really stressed to her, but with as close as Minnie was coming to dropping just _how_ she and Hermione had gone about doing these things, it was starting to appear more and more unlikely.

"Minnie, give me that!" At this point, Minnie was bent over the side of the chair like a Chinese acrobat with Hermione draped over her, balancing on one foot.

"I'm gonna tell!" Minnie declared, stretching her arm out as far as it could reach in an attempt to keep the phone away from Hermione.

"Tell what?"

Both sisters froze at the sound of their father calling out to them from the living room—when did _he_ get back—and the argument soon came to a swift halt. Even Minnie must have realized just how difficult this would be to explain.

"Nothing!" they answered in unison, though they were still in their somewhat awkward positions, doing their best to keep from toppling over one another.

"Minnie, just what do you think you're doing?" Hermione hissed as she struggled to keep her balance. "Working your way through the town's phonebook?"

"No!" Minnie answered, almost looking affronted. "I was talking to Uncle Marty, and he's going to be coming in a few days, so he's going to find all this stuff out anyway!"

The little girl pulled herself back up into a seated position and held the phone up to her ear. "Now, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…."

Hermione eventually did manage to pull herself to her feet, but still felt mentally off-tilt. Who was this 'Uncle Marty' Minnie seemed to be so friendly with? A thousand different scenarios began running through Hermione's head, ranging from long-lost wizarding relatives who knew about the Memory Charm to the possibility that Minnie was meeting strange men on the internet. Witch or not, Hermione was very aware of _that_ possibility.

But convinced she was not going to be getting answers out of Minnie, Hermione slipped out into the living room to meet her parents whose arms were loaded down with grocery bags.

"Wendell, Monica!" Hermione rushed up to them. "Can I help you carry anything?"

"Yes!" her mother gasped, unhanding an armful of bags into Hermione's arms. "All this food, you'd think the bloody president was coming!"

Hermione followed her parents back into the kitchen, while Minnie ignored the numerous heavy bags that needed to be carried as she remained completely absorbed in her phone call.

"Minnie, you were on the phone when we left!" her mother lectured.

Minnie argued back, "But it's Uncle Marty!"

Their mother shook her head, but let her second-born continue on with her phone call. "Just let your dad have a turn when you're done."

Minnie nodded absent-mindedly before once again turning her back on all the adults in the room as they did all the work.

"Um, Wendell," Hermione asked, as she handed off various boxes of food, "just who _is_ Uncle Marty?" Hopefully, 'Uncle' Marty was just a close family friend who had been gifted with the honorary title.

"Marty," her mother began, "_Martin_ is Wendell's younger brother. Actually, he has a great deal to do with why we decided to come to Australia in the first place."

Hermione felt her stomach begin to churn. _Martin Wilkins?_ Hermione already knew there was no way this could possibly turn out well.

"It started with him spending a year as an exchange student in Queensland," her father went on, "then it was wanting to attend university in Australia, then it was work in Australia. After that, it was a thousand letters and phone calls about just how wonderful Australia was, and the rest is history."

Throughout the monologue, Hermione did her very best to smile, despite the fast pace at which she was becoming more and more nervous.

"Marty actually doesn't spend a lot of time in Australia anymore, because of his work," her father admitted.

"He writes for _National Geographic_" Minnie interrupted, making sure the point was very clear.

Monica took up the conversation for her husband. "But he still says Australia will always be his home…over and over again."

"He even speaks English the right way," Minnie chirped once again.

The citizens of Britain glanced over at the sole Australian with annoyed expressions. "Minnie, talk to your uncle," their father finally said.

Minnie shrugged and returned to the kitchen with the phone still attached to her ear. "So where are you calling from?" she asked before turning her head over her shoulder once again. "Mum, where's Senegal?"

"West Africa," her mother informed her.

Minnie's eyes lit up before turning her attention back to the phone. "Cool! Did you see any elephants…lions…hippos…killer bees?"

* * *

Once night came and her parents had gone to sleep, Hermione found herself pouring over her newly acquired books from Buruwangnuwi, but this new situation made her rather disappointed in the choices she had made. They certainly might have helped in thinking of new methods of recovering an Obliviated person's memories, but not on the exact mechanics of attaching new planted memories to someone already living on a foundation of planted memories. It would be difficult, but certainly not impossible.

But while she tried her very best to focus on her reading, she found her mind wandering elsewhere, namely towards this supposed uncle of her sister's.

This 'Uncle Marty' had to be a wizard. There was no other explanation. Her parents were intelligent people, but the Memory Charm she had placed them under left them vunerable, especially to further tampering with their memories. What little else Hermione did know about Memories Charms was that once the original charm had already been cast, it took relatively little effort to elaborate on the charm further until the effected person would believe just about anything about their lives.

She couldn't be quite sure just how Marty had found out about her parents' situation, but he would hardly be the first to use magic to take advantage of Muggles. No doubt Wendell Wilkins had offered his 'little brother' a free meal, a bed to sleep in, and maybe even substantial amounts of money over the years. Even if the last one wasn't the case, it could also be possible that this man had simply done this to her family just for the fun of it. Hermione had certainly met enough wizard would be capable of this in Britain, and no doubt there were people like this who existed in Australia.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up to see her little sister standing in the doorway, pajama-clad and her plait still damp from the shower, a look of puzzled worry across her face.

"Minnie, what is it?" Hermione marked her place and set her book on the bedside table.

Slowly, Minnie made her way into the guestroom, as though she came bearing very grim news indeed. "I just thought of something," she began solemnly, "If my dad, Wendell Wilkins, is really your dad, John Granger, then there's no way I could have an Uncle Marty Wilkins, is there?"

Hermione's mouth formed into a very tight line. She had been hoping that she might be able to break this news to Minnie herself…and not right away. But Hermione supposed she should have taken into account that at the age of ten, Minnie was certainly old enough to have come to the correct conclusion on her own if she gave it any amount of thought. She had just hoped that if it was she who ended up telling Minnie, she might find a way to somehow break it to her as gentler news than it really was.

But not seeing any way to further delay the inevitable, Hermione shook her head. "No, Minnie. There's no way he can be your uncle. Wendell Wilkins isn't a real person, so he can't have a younger brother, can he?"

It was clear that Minnie already knew the truth about her fake relative, but Minnie clearing it to be fact certainly didn't make it any better. Minnie bit down on her lips and scrunched her face into a pained expression, her eyes clenched tight in an attempt to stop the tears that were leaking out none the less. Then, without waiting for an invitation, Minnie rushed towards her sister and threw herself onto the bed, just short of collapsing.

"Well, if he's not my uncle, then who is he?" She gasped, just barely on the verge of crying. "Why is he doing this to us? What does he want?"

Minnie looked as though she had been absolutely crushed. It was such a contrast with the excitement at finding out she had an older sister, after the initial shock of it all wore off. But then, losing a relative you had always known had to be a lot more devastating than gaining a family member you had never known existed.

Hermione felt her heart heaving for the reaction she was seeing from her sister. It might have seemed a bit dramatic, the way Minnie's mood had swung so quickly, but considering the circumstances, it was somewhat understandable.

And Hermione immediately began doing her very best to console her little sister. "I really don't know, Minnie," Hermione admitted, wishing she could offer Minnie something a bit more comforting. "I didn't create any Uncle Marty in our parents' memories, and I doubt just anyone could have walked up to our father, claiming to be his younger brother who he just doesn't see very often."

Minnie didn't look up. She made some odd, low-pitched sort of squeal and wet sniffing. It sounded like she might be trying to say something, but just couldn't quite force anything intelligible past her lips.

"But, Minnie, I'm a witch too, remember?" Hermione reminded her sister. "And despite what you might think about my being unable to remove the charm on our parents, I am a very good one."

Hermione hoped that she might be able to draw some sort of audible response from her sister, even if it was just an attempt to mock her magical abilities. But instead, in an almost comical manner, Minnie arms caved out from under her, and she collapsed face-first into the bed in a manner that couldn't have made breathing very easy. Hermione tried shaking her little sister's shoulder, but Minnie remained dead still, almost making Hermione worry if there was more to this episode than simply being dramatic.

Still, Hermione continued to try, reaching out to rub her little sister's back. "Whatever this 'Uncle Marty' character might be up to with our family, I promise he's not going to be able to do anything funny while I'm here."

And still, there was absolutely no reaction from Minnie.

Hermione leaned in closer, trying to push her sister's head to the side so she could look her in the eyes. "Do you believe me?"

Minnie had a rather spaced, faraway look in her eyes, as though she wasn't really seeing what was directly in front of her. She did, however, manage to speak. "So do you have a plan?"

To this, Hermione had to shake her head. She had been caught just as off-guard as Minnie was by this whole 'Uncle Marty' business, and she had been so busy worrying about her parents and her little sister, she hadn't even had any time to decide what she was going to do about it all.

Minnie finally showed some true signs of life by rolling her eyes and turning onto her back. "What a shock!"

Hermione burst out laughing, even though she probably should have been insulted, but it was so nice to see Minnie return to her old self.

* * *

"Marty!" Hermione could hear her mother say from the floor below. "I still wish you would have told us when your flight was coming in. Wendell and I gladly would have come and gotten you so you didn't have to waste all that money on a cab!"

Hermione was standing in the upstairs hallway, just outside the guestroom, when Uncle Marty had arrived. Hermione made sure to stay out of the way, not knowing the proper etiquette for when an imposter was in one's home and exchanging pleasantries with one's family. Something else she had noticed: Minnie had also made herself scarce for the arrival of her supposed uncle. Hermione sighed. It was as though she felt guilty. Minnie had figured out the truth about Uncle Marty all on her own, and with knowing the truth about who her parents really were, it was only a matter of time anyway.

Still, the way Hermione felt about her little sister learning yet another facet of her life was a lie…well, she didn't quite know a word to describe what she was feeling, but it certainly didn't feel good.

Minnie was wearing a dress, a green and white pinafore-style frock; something Hermione couldn't recall seeing on her sister in all the time she had been here. Most likely, it was something their mother had picked out for her to wear for the occasion (Hermione could recall similar instances from her own childhood).

Hermione took her time studying the strange man who was making himself so at home among her family. Uncle Marty had a very square-shaped head with numerous streaks of grey running through his hair, just like Hermione was beginning to see on her father. He was dressed enough like a Muggle, but so was Hermione, so that hardly proved anything.

At any rate, Hermione had long since decided that she was going to devote this entire visit to watching Uncle Marty's every move. After that…well, Hermione still wasn't quite sure what she would do. She couldn't exactly go to the Australian wizarding authorities without bringing herself into scrutiny, that was for certain. But at the same time, she was _not_ about to allow her parents be the victims of a con man, or let her little sister to base her life on his lies!

She supposed she would just have to figure out all the mess at the Australian Ministry of Magic later.

When Minnie finally began making her way down the staircase as well, the fake relative finally took notice. "Minnie-Minnie-Binnie!" he exclaimed, making his way to the stairs. "There's my only, therefore, favorite niece!"

But for all the excitement Uncle Marty seemed to show, Minnie's expression was completely blank and her stance uncomfortably stiff. She hung back against the stairs, as though desperately wanting to rush to her sister's side instead of face this imposter.

"What the matter?" the man asked, confused. "You're too grown up now to give your Uncle Marty a hug?"

"And who is this?" Uncle Marty asked once his attention shifted up towards Hermione. "Wendell, don't tell me Mum put you up to arranging a blind date for my visit!"

Hermione could feel the angry blood rushing to her cheeks, but hoped it wasn't too terribly visible. Hermione had had one grandmother growing up, and she had died fourteen years ago. Shaking her head, Hermione could only imagine: Minnie _had_ a grandmother, but she was off fulfilling her dream of teaching English to Cambodian schoolchildren.

"Marty, this is Hermione Weasley," Wendell introduced the woman he still couldn't recall as his daughter. "And yes, we already know that she and Minnie share the same name. We met Big Hermione when we first came to Wonthaggi. She was traveling as a student, and helped us a great deal in setting up our dental practice here."

Uncle Marty nodded as he took a few steps up the stairs and reached up towards Hermione's hand. "Actually, I think I do remember you mentioning something about a certain 'Big Hermione'." He took Hermione's hand firmly and gave it a strong shake. "It is nice to finally meet you, then."

All Hermione could manage to do was nod as she accepted the man's hand. She glanced down towards her younger sister, who was standing arms crossed against the wall, huffing her breath and rolling her eyes. It was as though now that she knew the man as an imposter, she was through with even trying to be civil to him.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and hoped her little sister could be a bit more discrete, lest her supposed uncle begin to notice something going on.

Luckily, Uncle Marty seemed to be more interested in conversing with the girls' parents for the time being. "Wendell, Monica! What does a man have to do to be allowed off his feet? If I have to stand for one more second, they're just going to snap right off!"

The group was then directed to the living room, scattered among the couch and the armchairs. Minnie had been presented with a large amount of gifts, and her parents, of course, insisted it was too much and that Uncle Marty was spoiling the girl as she unwrapped a Senegalese painted drum, a pair of Chinese fans, a paper lamp from Japan decorated with cherry blossoms, a Mexican Day of the Dead skeleton doll, and a nightlight of a sign proclaiming 'Welcome to Las Vegas'. Minnie took each gift with a lackluster smile that seemed to go unnoticed by the adults. It was somewhat impressive to watch 'Uncle Marty' spin off lie after believable lie, and watch her parents swallow them whole. Then again, spells could do some pretty impressive things, and no doubt her parent's altered memories had been built on again and again over the years.

But then Uncle Marty turned his attentions to the people in the room who were already onto him. "So, Big Hermione, Wendell and Monica tell me you're a barrister. Where did _you_ attend university?"

If Hermione didn't know better, she would have sworn that by glint in the man's eyes that he was challenging her to a contest for who could tell the most convincing lie.

But before Hermione could think of a lie, Minnie interrupted with, "Hermione went to Oxford."

After saying this, Minnie shot her sister a proud smile, as though she were happy to show up her fake uncle by getting him to believe her _real_ sister had gone to such a prestigious university…even if _that_ was a complete lie, as well.

Uncle Marty raised an eyebrow, almost looking impressed, but their parents just looked confused. "But I thought you told Monica and I you went to Manchester."

Hermione cursed under her breath as she found herself remembering. When she had first attempted to return to Australia to revive her parents memories, she _had_ told them she was a student at Manchester; a good school, but still one that could make for a believable lie. She had also convinced Ginny, Luna, and even Fleur to assist in posing in some fake pictures of them on campus. It might have been a fake story, but Hermione's parents had heard the names of her friends hundreds of times during her school years, so she had hoped hearing the familiar names again and again might jar something in their memories.

Of course, it hadn't. Hermione didn't even know where those pictures were anymore.

But now she had another problem. Minnie had inadvertently put her in a real bind with her parents' understanding of the truth. She knew her sister hadn't done it on purpose. It was even possible that Oxford was the only British university Minnie had ever heard of. Now was a good time for Hermione to pick up the talent of thinking on her feet. "I completed my first four years at Manchester, but I went to law school at Oxford."

Hermione's father raised his glass. "Well, good for you! I don't care what you say, Hermione, you're on your way to Parliament!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the compliment. She also couldn't stop herself from flashing the same cheeky smile at Uncle Marty that Minnie had been guilty of just moments before.

* * *

All through supper, Minnie barely said a word without any sort of prodding from her parents, and she picked at her dinner. She excused herself before dessert and banished herself up to bed, her posture drooping the whole way up the stairs. Hermione's parents blamed their daughter's behavior on a stomach flu that was apparently going around. And Hermione certainly wasn't going to argue with their assumption.

Hermione herself didn't feel very much like exchanging pleasantries with her fake uncle, so she took it upon herself to catch her sister's flu as well so she could excuse herself also. As she stepped up into the hallway, Hermione wondered whether or not she should go up to Minnie's room and see if her sister wanted to talk. But just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, the radio started blaring at top volume and the animals inside all started going crazy.

No, it was fairly obvious that Minnie wanted to work through whatever she was feeling on her own.

Much later, well past midnight, Hermione had given up on sleep. She also recalled packing a box of white chocolate macaroons away in the pantry, the same ones she had absolutely loved when she was young. She hoped it was a sign that her parents were beginning to remember at least a few of the more miniscule details of their previous life. But at any rate, Hermione was in need of a sweet and sugary pick-me-up.

Expecting to descend upon an empty floor, Hermione was extremely taken aback when she reached the bottom steps and saw Uncle Marty making himself quite comfortable on the living room couch, leaning against the cushions, a glass of scotch and ice in his hand.

"Mrs. Weasley, you must think yourself to be the most extraordinary witch in the world with all your ambitions for your parents," he said in a very flat tone. "What I can't figure out is, with all that ambition, why you seem to be taking you time so much."

Uncle Marty didn't turn around, but if he had, he would have seen the look of shocked mortification all across Hermione's face. She couldn't believe it, that this man, in one sentence, proved everything Hermione had suspected of him from the beginning. She was fairly certain that the first rule of any con was not to tell the people one was conning about the con.

For a long time after that, the room was silent, mostly because Hermione wasn't sure where to go from here. The logical answer would have been to put Uncle Marty in some sort of Body-Bind Curse and take him straight to the Australian Ministry of Magic…but then the thoughts of all current…complications proved to be a very effective barrier.

"You…," Hermione found herself stammering, "you…are in so much trouble—"

One of the reactions Hermione might have expected would have been Uncle Marty making an end-run dash for the fireplace to escape through the Floo Network, or, if he was especially brave or invested in this con, draw his wand to attack. But instead, the man simply reclined further into the couch. "I wouldn't think you'd be in a very good position to say who is in trouble here, Mrs. Weasley."

At this, Hermione became a great deal more anxious. Uncle Marty must have noticed Minnie's change in behavior, wondered at Hermione's sudden presence, or even heard her and Minnie conversing about something he wasn't supposed to hear. All the same, Hermione was not about to allow herself to become the victim of a conman the way her family had been for what had to be a great number of years.

But just as she was getting ready to speak up once again, she was very suddenly stopped.

"Hermione Weasley, formerly Granger, born September first, 1979 in Winchester to John and Jean Granger, both dentists."

Hermione was very flabbergasted interrupted by Uncle Marty listing fact after fact about her life, in an almost rehearsed manner. But certainly not in a way that someone could have just been quickly looked up or learned just a few hours ago.

"Educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for her role in the Second War against Lord Voldemort. Initially employed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, noted for her spearheading of reforms in house-elf and werewolf rights. Currently employed by the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Married to Ronald Weasley, age twenty-eight, with two children: Rose, two years old, and Hugo, three months old."

Uncle Marty finished his long-winded speech with a deep, much needed gulp of air.

"But what she is most well known for, as far as the Australian Ministry of Magic is concerned, is wiping her parents memories of the fact that they even have a Muggle-born daughter, and packing them off to Australia where they happen to have a second Muggle-born daughter are currently sitting on a ticking time bomb of memories related to the great secret that is the wizard world. Oh! And for having absolutely nothing to do with her family for ten years."

Finally the man stood to his feet and turned to stare Hermione down with an imposing stone-like glare. "Until now, at least."

It wasn't until Uncle Marty was standing mere inches in front of her that Hermione had become aware of just how much taller the man was than she. She had completely forgot worrying about being attacked by means of magic, and began worrying about what he could do if he simply decided to fall on top of her.

Uncle Marty ignored this, though. "So you can imagine just how much of a craw it proved to be when the Australian Ministry found out you had returned."

It was this statement in particular, about the woes of the Australian government, that caused Hermione to abandon her previous fears of being squashed by a semi-giant. Uncle Marty had unknowingly touched a very certain nerve Hermione had possessed since the age of sixteen when the Ministry of Magic had seen fit to take over her school and place the horrid Dolores Umbridge in charge of every aspect of her classmates' educational and private lives.

Ever since then, Hermione had had a particular sort of distain for any sort of interference in people's private lives. She snorted to herself as she glared up towards the ceiling. _Why on earth does the Australian Ministry of Magic even need to be made aware of my plans to visit my own family?_ After everything Hermione had been through during her last few years at Hogwarts, she still had an obscene amount of distrust for any amount of government interference, despite the fact that she worked for it.

Even though Hermione didn't say any of these things out loud, Uncle Marty still answered all of her questions as though he could read her mind. "Mrs. Weasley, you obviously know there is an Australian wizarding community, so obviously there must be an Australian Ministry of Magic to oversee it. And logic would also dictate that if there happened to be a Muggle couple, who happened to be the parents of one of the most well-known witches in their native country, who decided to emigrate to Australia—a couple under the influence of a very powerful Memory Charm, but still sitting on everything that could possibly be known about the existence of magic—that the Australian Ministry may see fit to become involved in their case."

Hermione's suppressed annoyed snark chose that particular moment to break into the conversation. "And I'm certain that my parents were very grateful for that fact!"

Uncle Marty raised a surprised eyebrow, but still managed to keep his voice somewhat calm and professional-sounding. "At first, we didn't," he informed Hermione, his voice sounding slightly taken aback. "The world was very aware of the terror that Lord Voldemort was capable of, and it was actually somewhat understandable that you did what you did.

"When your parents first arrived in Australia, the Ministry of Magic was very aware of who they were and the circumstances that had brought them here, but there was a collective decision to remain hands-off for the time being. We certainly weren't about to do anything that might attract the unwanted attention one of the most notorious Dark wizards of the modern day. Australia does not wish to be known as the nation that murders the Muggle parents of wizarding heroes." Uncle Marty shook his head. "Merlin knows we have enough problems as the world's primary source of Billywig addiction."

And then the man continued on in a far less grave tone, "And when you came back to Australia for the first time, we were hoping that the entire incident would be able to blow over with no government involvement."

The new tone of voice did not last for very long, though, as he moved on to the part of the story that Hermione was less than proud of. "However, when the Ministry became aware that you had left the country once again, and were most likely going to leave your family in the care of our nation—roughly around Minnie's first birthday—the case was passed onto the Muggle Liaison Office to oversee their current mental state and the dormancy of their memories."

It was at this point that the crawling anger in Hermione's stomach was replaced with crawling dread. As angry as she was at the uninvited interference in her family's life, she couldn't help but ignore the fact that everything he was saying was right. She had been so concerned with keeping her parents at the time, she had not even considered what it might have meant if she was unable to lift the charm once the danger was over, or even if Voldemort would ever be defeated.

And, of course, at the time, she certainly didn't consider that if she was unable to life the charm on her parents, that that might open them up to all sorts of interference from the Australian Ministry of Magic. It hadn't even occurred to her that there would be any sort of official Ministry record of who her parents were. They were Muggles, after all, and shouldn't have been subject to any sort of Ministry of Magic laws or regulation.

Then again, the situation her parents found themselves in couldn't have been a very common occurrence.

Uncle Marty illuminated further, "You can imagine the nasty mess that could have arisen if Minnie were to perform some feat of accidental magic in front of her parents, similar to something that had happened in your own childhood, and every memory they ever had about the wizarding world were to come rushing back." Uncle Marty seemed to shudder inwardly at the possibility. "There are reported incidents of similar situations of individuals under the influence of similar Memory Charms, none of which ended well."

Hermione scoffed at the simplistic response. "Because you simply had such resources gathering dust in the back of a cupboard."

Now was the point where Uncle Marty was beginning to grow annoyed. "Believe it or not, Mrs. Weasley, you are not the world's foremost expert on Memory Charms," he told her. "The world's various Ministries, however, _do_ happen to have access to witches and wizards who are. Getting these people to reveal exactly what it would take to 'embellish' on these planted memories, to perhaps include a younger brother that doesn't exist for a former British dentist who doesn't exist, takes far less effort than you might think."

"And yet it never occurred to anyone at the Ministry that, instead of casting all these additional spells, they could have just lifted the original one so my parents could remember who they really are and they could go back to their lives in Britain," Hermione tried to reason. "Then you'd never have to worry about them."

It certainly could have saved Hermione a lot of stress and potential years taken off her lifespan if they had chosen to take that route.

"That was not our purgative, Mrs. Weasley," Uncle Marty answered back. "Your parents had settled into their new life in Wonthaggi, something they believed was their life's dream, and Minnie was born and raised Australia; she doesn't know anything else. Even if the Australian Ministry were to put forth the necessary effort to undo _your_ mess, do you really think it would be in your family's best interest for us to do so?"

Hermione had certainly never considered any of these things when she first cast the Obliviation Charm on her parents, but granted, she never imagined she would still be dealing with the consequences eleven years later. She might have been able to say she had done what she had for the sake of her parents' safety when she had first sent them away, but Voldemort had been dead for more than a decade. It was safe to say her parents would no longer be in any profound danger if they were to return to England. The Australian Ministry of Magic probably could have hunted Hermione down any time—she was certainly well known enough—but then there was no telling what kind of international outcry there would have been if the Australian government were to expel Hermione's _Muggle_ family from the country, especially when they still had no idea who Hermione was.

Whether or not this was Uncle Marty's intent or not, Hermione was now beginning to feel extraordinarily guilty, like a child being scolded by an adult.

"More importantly, Mrs. Weasley, do you have any idea how much money your little stunt has cost the Australian Ministry of Magic over the course of the years?" Uncle Marty shifted the mood of the room from guilt to sudden and absolute dread. "Keeping a constant report on your parents mental state, seeing to it that Minnie is able to have a normal life in spite of the unusual circumstances she was born under, all the expert consultations needed in order to know everything possible about the particular memory charm your parents are under."

Begrudgingly, Hermione resigned to the man's authority and own expertise for the situation. As much as she might have hated to admit it, she had left her family in Australia under the influence of a spell she really didn't understand all that well, and especially after Minnie had been born, it was only natural to assume that the wizarding government would become involved in the affairs of such a vulnerable family. Given this attitude, Hermione supposed she should have considered herself lucky that the Australian Ministry of Magic hadn't been tracking her down like a fugitive all these years.

All the same, Hermione had been the one responsible for putting the government in this predicament that had absolutely no prescient. It was not difficult to see how the Australian Ministry would want to take out all their frustrations on _her_.

"I am sure you are smart enough to understand that none of these things are free and none of these people are willing to work for Billywigs," the man informed Hermione. "I'm not completely sure just what the legal ramifications of everything you have done happen to be. This isn't exactly a common enough scenario to be written into the law books, but I am certain that if the Ministry has enough employs to baby-sit a family of Muggles, they must have enough to figure this mess out!"

There is was: all the vague threats that had been sent before were not being proclaimed clear as day. The fear of being arrested or facing prosecution of some sort was only just vaguely resonating in her mind. Her brain just stopped there, not wanting to consider that she might be separated from Ron and her children, the field day the _Daily Prophet_ would have with such a scandalous story, and just how this would affect everyone who remotely cared about her.

Then, speak of the devil….

"Could you two please keep it down?" came a voice. "Mum and Dad are both really light sleepers, and if they woke up, I don't know how I would explain this to them."

The two adults looked up at the staircase to see Minnie hanging over the banister, still wearing the same green and white dress she had been earlier that evening (though much more rumpled), showing that she had not yet been able to sleep either.

And it was Uncle Marty who appeared the most worried about the current predicament. "How long have you been up there?"

Minnie was still leaning over the banister rail as she sidestepped her way down the stairs. "Long enough to know I need coffee."

Hermione couldn't help but snicker at her little sister's sentence as Minnie finally joined them on the lower-level of the house. All it really seemed to prove to her was that Minnie still didn't understand the point of coffee, and in an odd way, it was rather charming. Uncle Marty, on the other hand, for as jovial as he had been when he had seen Minnie that afternoon, appeared to be the most nervous about her presence, his mouth tightening into a very severe-looking slit.

"I found out something I wasn't supposed to, didn't I?" Minnie asked her fake Uncle Marty. "All adults everywhere have the exact same look whenever that happens."

Uncle Marty shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Just…how much _did_ you hear, Minnie?"

A childish version of a smirk began to spread across Minnie's face as she began tilting her head from side to side.

"I know that Hermione's in big trouble with the Aussie wizard government," she regaled the two adults before her. "I know Hermione did something she wasn't supposed to when she cast that Memory Charm on our parents, and when she left us here to live in Australia, she just made it worse."

"And now that she's come back to try and fix everything again, you're trying to get her in trouble for anything she did." She looked up at her not-true uncle with her hands on her hips and a disapproving look on her face. "That's not nice."

Hermione took her side to see Uncle Marty standing with his arms crossed and his eyes drifting upward in serious though. It was funny, Hermione had expected the man to talk down to Minnie, try and pass it off. It was almost as though, over the years, the man who was not her uncle had formed a sort of respect for Minnie, after years of not falling for 'got your nose' or 'there's a monster under the bed'.

And, of course, he had probably realized how much Hermione had told her little sister about the wizarding world, and just decided there was no point in even trying.

"So, _Uncle_ Marty," Minnie looked up at the man, saying his name with something that sounded not quite like distain, "what are you going to do now?"

"Your old sister is in a great deal of trouble, Minnie," Uncle Marty said in a low-toned voice, making no attempt to mask the graveness of the whole situation. "Think of what could have happened if your parents could have suddenly recalled everything they knew about the wizarding world and decided to go around telling anyone who would sit still long enough? And what if Lord Voldemort, the Dark wizard, wasn't defeated and they somehow found out your parents were hiding in Australia? He would have turned the entire country upside down looking for them, and a lot of innocent Muggles and wizarding folk would have been hurt."

Minnie seemed to regard the man's words with a quiet thoughtfulness, but Hermione could see the wheels in her head turning behind her eyes.

"Her actions regarding you and you parents were incredibly irresponsible, to say the least." Uncle Marty sidestepped the increasingly uncomfortable circle of wizarding folk. "The wizarding world has rules and laws, just like the Muggle world does. Can you imagine what would happen if _wizards_ were allowed to just run around doing whatever they wanted? You've been familiar with the wizarding would for quite some time, and I think you could imagine."

Uncle Marty inhaled deeply, as he prepared himself for his next line of words. "And just like the Muggle world, when laws are broken, the one responsible has to be punished, otherwise what is the point?"

"But I thought you said nothing like this has ever happened before," Minnie retorted, her hands going to her hips. "How can you think to make a law against something that you would never think could happen?"

_Good one, Minnie!_ Hermione thought to herself, silently applauding her sister for her clever reasoning that she hadn't even thought a ten-year-old was capable of.

Uncle Marty huffed under his breath, as though he too were impressed by Minnie's level of reasoning, but his previous tone remained unchanged. "Minnie, all the same, your sister is certainly clever enough to know that casting spells on Muggles, especially an unauthorized Obliviation Charm, is not something that can be done without consequences. These laws, as well as a healthy respect for Muggles' independent affairs, are what make our society a modern one, instead of the times when wizards could roam across the Outback, casting spells this way and that, any time they pleased."

The man stood to his feet and spoke with a certain amount of sadness, if only for Minnie and no one else. "As soon as I report back to the Ministry, what happens to her will be left up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Office of International Relations."

But even against the much taller man, Minnie stood firm where she was, chest puffed out like a proud sparrow. "You can't do that," she told him. "For you to do that, you're also going to have to tell the Ministry of Magic that I found out I have a secret older sister and a not-real uncle—_and_ that I found out all about the wizarding world—all on your watch. If you turned Hermione into the Ministry, _you'd_ be in a lot of trouble too!"

Now Minnie was beginning to circle the man while his eyes followed in a still, yet nervous manner.

"Hermione did everything without knowing it was against any laws, but you _knew_ it was your job to keep me and my family stupid." Minnie went on saying, as she continued her circling. "And I don't even have any buried memories about the wizarding world to be brought back to life."

Now Minnie was staring up at her fake uncle, a learned smirk on her face, with her arms crossed over her thin chest. "You couldn't have messed up worse if you tried."

Uncle Marty, who seemed to be caught surprisingly off guard, stuttered and stammered as he tried to come up with a rebuttal, but he continued coming up empty. There was nothing that could put a kink in any plan of any sort any more effectively than a ten-year-old with blackmail who wasn't afraid to use it.

Though, also, it could have had a great deal to do with him being unable to fight in a battle of wills with someone he had essentially raised since she was an infant. Hermione could recall just how difficult a time Harry had always had when it came to Teddy and issuing any sort of discipline or limitations.

` "You always were too clever for your own good, Minnie-Binnie," the man finally grumbled under his breath. "When you want to be, at least."

Minnie turned to face her sister, arms still crossed, but as wide a smile as could be physically possible spread across her face. Of course, Hermione was proud of her sister, and also quite thankful that she had managed to talk her way out of possible legal action (even if it was potentially done through less than legal means). And if Hermione was ever going to end up going down for it, it was certain that now Minnie would be going down with her (that tended to happen whenever someone threatened a government official). It was high time this whole mess was put to an end.

"Minnie, go back to bed."

It was at that very moment that Minnie's smile turned into a look of disgust. "No way! This is just getting good!"

Hermione did her best to speak with some amount of authority, something she was not at all used to using on the girl. "Minnie, listen to me. I'm your older sister."

"Not according to the Australian government."

"Minnie!"

"Hermione!" Minnie mocked her sister's attempts to convey authority over her.

Deciding to take a more proactive approach, Hermione took her little sister by the shoulders and began leading her up the stairs. Surprisingly, however, Minnie did not protest.

"I assume we'll be picking this up again in the morning, Uncle Marty."

"Don't worry," Uncle Marty remarked in a resigned tone, taking his previous seat back on the couch. "Your little sister has my wand in a vice, and I don't doubt that she'd be willing to make good on her blackmail if you disappeared unexpectedly."

Minnie giggled at the reference, but Hermione just rolled her eyes and continued pushing the little girl towards her attic bedroom.

"I still get presents whenever you come to visit!" Minnie made sure to shout at her last chance she had to be heard.

* * *

Uncle Marty left Wonthaggi first thing the next morning. He told Minnie's parents that it had been because he'd gotten a call from his editor saying that the higher-ups had decided that they wanted him to do a nonexistent story on lowland gorillas, and that he needed to leave right away if he had any hope of finishing his story before the deadline. Minnie recalled her parents special-ordering previous issues of _National Geographic_ just so they could read whatever story Uncle Marty had told them he had written.

She also began to wonder how the Australian Ministry of Magic managed to get the Uncle Marty-stories into the magazine, and if Uncle Marty had written them himself, or if the Ministry had a special fake-story writer just for the job.

Minnie's parents had been confused at first, especially since her father's only brother (allegedly) had come all the way to Australia to visit them, but went back to Africa after only one day. But eventually, they accepted the sudden news, gathering the whole family in the doorway to wave good-bye as Uncle Marty drove away in his taxi cab. Minnie wondered if this was a real taxi cab, or some sort of other Ministry of Magic trick.

That wasn't all that Minnie was feeling confused about, though. Even though she now knew that being 'Uncle Marty' was the man's job, that still didn't take away everything he had done for her over the years, or the fact that she still found herself caring about him.

After all, Uncle Marty had been the one to convince Minnie's parents that she had just as much chance of getting salmonella from an undercooked hamburger as she did hunting for turtles, and who had taught her to snorkel in the shallow waters on the Wonthaggi coast. There were pictures of him with the family at birthday parties and on holidays. Minnie didn't even want to imagine what her dad would do when he found out he didn't really have a younger brother. He flipped when he found out Minnie had accidently broken Ty Hatcher's nose, and this seemed like it would be much, much worse.

On some level, she still cared for the man, even if it turned out they weren't at all related. Even the lying didn't really bother her so much anymore; after all, she had forgiven Hermione, hadn't she? None of it made sense. Minnie felt so mixed up in her head, and she knew even less about what she was supposed to do about all this now that she knew the truth and her parents still thought Uncle Marty was a member of the Wilkins family.

One afternoon, when Minnie heard a door opening while climbing up to the top level of the refrigerator, an idea came to her rather instantly and one that didn't really make a lot of sense. She jumped from the shelves, ignoring the rather dirty toe prints she had left on the glass, and grabbed the telephone off the hook and began spouting off at the mouth.

"Oh, hi there, Uncle Marty," she began, although though even _she_ could tell it was a less than convincing performance. "Yes, school is going fine. I'm having a math test tomorrow."

Minnie was continuing on with her one-sided conversation, praying that the phone wouldn't ring, when both Hermione and their mother huddled their way into the kitchen, carrying yet more groceries in addition to the ones they had bought less than a week ago. Perhaps Minnie should have kept a better eye on Chunga's eating habits.

"Minnie, you end up eating a great deal of this food," her mother attempted to tease. "You help carry some of it!"

But Minnie had committed to this ruse, and she was going to stick with it. "Not now, Mum," Minnie shouted, "I'm talking to Uncle Marty."

Hermione spun on her heels and stared her sister down over the top of her brown grocery bags. "You are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Minnie nodded, doing her best to appear confident. "And he's using only one of twelve payphones that exist in Tanzania," she finished in an almost curt way. "So I'd like to talk to him, if you don't mind."

Minnie did her best to ignore the eye-rolling on her sister's part, but it didn't take very long before Minnie wasn't given much of a choice in whether or not her spontaneous plan would continue. "Monica, why don't you just set the groceries on the counter, and Minnie and I will put them away?"

Her mother, who was not about to refuse an offer of help from Hermione after she had been in the home for so long, dropped her own bags onto the kitchen counter and left in one motion before Hermione had time to change her mind.

But instead of going to work on putting away the groceries like she had promised, Hermione set her own paper sacks down and turned to face her little sister. "Minnie just what do you think you're doing?"

Minnie set the phone against her shoulder and pretended to look innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione sighed, shook her head, and knelt down just a little bit so she could look Minnie in the eyes. "Minnie, I can tell you're just trying to keep your parents from finding out about your not-really Uncle Marty, but I think you might be trying a bit too hard," she said, trying to sound sympathetic. "And you probably shouldn't be trying to have fake phone calls with your uncle anymore, especially when you have him off in countries that you really don't know a great deal about."

"There could be only twelve payphones in Tanzania!" Minnie argued. "You don't know! You've never been there!"

Hermione inhaled and tried to redirect. "And neither have you," she answered. "And in my experience, the longer you try to make up a story you tell your parents, the more likely it will be that they'll figure out they're being lied to."

Minnie couldn't exactly argue with that sort of thing. Even she knew her performance just now wouldn't have fooled anyone. If it were only Minnie in charge, her parents would figure out the truth in a matter of days.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

Hermione answered thoughtfully. "Well, you didn't have to use any effort to make your parents think Uncle Marty was real before, did you?"

"I didn't _know_ he wasn't real before," Minnie reminded her.

"You see, whoever Uncle Marty might really be, he was able to keep up that illusion all on his own, without any of your help." Hermione moved to stand up straight once again. "And he'll probably still be able to do that now. The only difference now is that you know that he's doing all this work."

Finally, she began to make good on her promise of putting away the food. "My advice would be not to do anything different than you did before."

When Hermione looked over her shoulder, flashing Minnie with a somewhat guilt-inducing look, Minnie eventually moved to her sister's side to join her in helping. "But I don't remember what I did special before."

Hermione shrugged as she pulled out a package of celery. "Then there's your answer. _Don't_ do anything special. You've been managing to keep Mum and Dad out of the loop when it comes to what you know about me. That means you are probably already doing everything perfectly fine when it comes to…all this"

Minnie nodded, but couldn't help but place her hand to her head as she reached for a package of yogurt. All these details about magic and fake relatives and lies on top of lies on top of lies, it was making her head spin.

Suddenly, however, they were interrupted. "Say, Minnie, before you hang up, give me the phone," her mother said, peeking her head back into the kitchen. "I'd like a chance to talk to Uncle Marty also."

But before Minnie could think of a true-sounding answer, Hermione snatched the phone out of her hand and offered their mother a sorry expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, Monica," she said in an apologetic tone. "Marty's phone call got cut off."

"Rhino stampede," Minnie spouted of as an explanation.

Minnie soon cringed under the realization that she had disobeyed her sister's orders, and under the rather annoyed glare Hermione was giving her.

But juggling all these lies was hard, bugger!


	10. Chapter 9 The International Floo Network

**Chapter 9  
The International Floo Network**

Minnie didn't feel like she really spent that much talking on the phone, but it seemed like every time her older sister stumbled upon her, that was what she was doing. And she probably should have cut back on her phone time, considering every time Hermione did end up catching her, Minnie ended up in some sort of trouble.

Today was one such day.

"…yeah, there were a bunch of pirate ships all held together by this big, big octopus, and sea turtles dragged us there in these little rowboats," she spoke casually into the mouthpiece as Hermione stepped into the living room. "And Hermione bought me a bunch of books….Oh! And I got a cat!...Black. I named him Snape."

Minnie soon found herself joining in the laugher that was bursting through the other end of the line. "Yeah, Hermione didn't think it was very funny, though."

Hermione rushed towards her little sister, leaning over the edge of the sofa. "Minnie, don't you remember what I said about you not being able to tell your friends about the wizarding world?"

"Relax," Minnie said, without making eye contact, waiting for the boom. "I'm talking to your husband."

Minnie peeked over her shoulder, just barely, but it was enough to see her older sister turn ghostly pale and (even though Minnie was pretty sure it was only an expression) the outline of a lump appear in her throat.

Minnie didn't know a lot of about her family in England, but she _now_ knew that Hermione had never told her husband, Ron, about Minnie, and that before the ten-year-old girl had picked up the phone, Ron had probably never even imagined that Hermione even had a little sister. Minnie couldn't help but feel a little insulted at this scenario, but at the same time, it was funny to imagine her husband on the other end of the line, drumming his fingers and biding his time, waiting for Hermione to be put on the phone while Minnie chatted on about Buruwangnuwi and everything else she had learned about the wizarding world.

"Minnie, give me the phone," Hermione faintly ordered her sister.

Minnie finally looked up, turning her head around completely. "No, I'm having a conversation with my brother-in-law. We have a lot of catching up to do."

The first time hadn't really been a request, and on some level, Minnie knew that, so she really wasn't all that surprised when, instead of just asking again, Hermione simply snatched the phone out of her sister's hand, much to Minnie's protest.

"Hello, Ron," Hermione spoke into the phone, visibly tense.

Even from the couch, Minnie could hear the voice of her brother-in-law almost as clearly as Hermione probably could. "Hermione, you have such a sweet little sister. I can't imagine why you wouldn't tell me about her. It's not as though she has a difficult name to remember!"

The conversation started out as though he was trying sound pleasant, but his tone quickly rose into angry frustration. Minnie turned around, watch with her elbows on the back of the couch and her chin resting on her hands. _Sooo_ much more entertaining than television ever could be!

"How much has Minnie told you?" Hermione's fingers went to her forehead as she tried to sound calm.

"Oh, let's see," Ron recalled. "How you were present at her birth, how you got her grounded—that wasn't very nice of you! Then there was…."

As the conversation went on, Minnie watched her sister's expression change as she heard her husband tell her everything that Minnie had been telling him over the course of their phone call. Hermione expression would have just a touch of hope at the end of every sentence, but that hoped would be dashed as Ron revealed a new story that Minnie had told him. She had a very strong feeling Hermione was going to continue to be disappointed. Minnie had given her sister's husband a very full and very complete account of what had happened since her new older sister had come into her life.

Even though the phone conversation must have been far from pleasant—at least for Ron—Minnie had actually enjoyed talking to her brother-in-law. Once all the awkwardness of it all wore off, and Minnie had explained exactly who she was in relation to Hermione and Ron explained how he had gotten Minnie's number and how he had ever learned to use a telephone, they had actually had a very nice conversation. He had told Minnie about her niece and nephew, about Harry and Ginny Potter (who were apparently very close friends of the family), and even a few short yet detailed war stories that Hermione had left out for some reason.

"Yes, Ron, yes; I understand," Hermione said, interrupting Minnie's train of thought. "Yes, well, I'll take care of it as soon as I can."

But even more entertaining was watching Hermione squirm, even though Minnie did feel a small twinge of quilt for thinking this way.

Hermione held her hand against her forehead, still appearing quite distressed, even as the conversation came to a close. "It was nice talking to you too. Give Rosie and Hugo each a hug from me. Good-bye."

Minnie watched her sister hang up the phone, her shoulders suddenly looking a lot heavier. She glanced in Minnie's direction as though she _wanted_ to be angry, but knew deep down that she had no justification. The secret of Minnie's existence had been officially spilt and now Hermione would have to find a way to dance around that as well.

"So…," Minnie looked up at her older sister with a practiced, innocent yet knowingly, devious smile on her face, "how much trouble am I in?"

* * *

Minnie was doing her very best to write as neatly as she could. It would have been a lot faster to type her letter on the downstairs computer, and a lot easier to send a letter through email. Her parents had promised her a while ago that she could get her own laptop for Christmas the year before she was to start Year Seven. Though considering where she was going to end up attending secondary school (Hogwarts or Coomalong), she probably wasn't going to end up having a lot of use for it.

Not that she still didn't have every intention of holding her parents to their promise anyway.

Last night, Minnie had been quite shocked to go up to bed and see an owl at her bedroom window, trying to peck its way through the glass. At first, she had been worried that it might have somehow caught scent of the feeder mice that Chunga had never touched, but when she had gotten a closer look, she could see, blending in with the breast feathers, a yellowed envelope addressed to Minnie in bright purple ink. Once she had opened the window, and had been able to distract the owl by shaking a gummy worm in front of its face so it looked alive, she had opened it to find it had been sent from the Kelly sisters. And ever since, the owl had been taking roost in Minnie's room, most likely waiting for a response to take back to Coomalong, so that was exactly what Minnie was doing.

Snape, the kitten, however, was not making this an easy task. Ever since sitting down to write, Snape had become obsessed with the eraser atop the moving pencil, and had decided he was going to catch it by any means necessary, even if Minnie's letter turned out looking as though it had been written in Thai.

Minnie grumbled to herself. She wouldn't have had this problem if she were writing an email!

"Snape, no! My pencil!" she scolded the animal for the fifteenth time, but to no avail. "Hey, cat! Stop it!"

But once again, proving a cat's complete inability to respond to orders, Snape bit down of the top of the eraser, snatched it right out of Minnie's hand, and took a flying leap off the desk.

"Hey, that's mine!" she continued to shout and she tried and failed to pounce and catch the kitten. "Not for sharing!"

It was too late, however. Snape made a mad dash under the bed, into the furthest, darkest corner that was just out of Minnie's reach. However, Minnie wasn't allowed a vast amount of time to fish for it.

"Minnie!" she could hear a very loud shout from two floors down call for her. "Hermione Monica Wilkens, come here right now!"

Collapsing against the floor, Minnie cringed as she breathed in peppermint-sized dust particles. It was her parents, and she could recognize their 'you're in trouble' yell, even if she heard it shouted from two _neighborhoods_ away.

"MINNIE!"

"Coming!" Minnie yelled back, cringing inwardly at where she was about to be summoned.

All the way down the attic steps, down to hallway, and to the stairs, Minnie's stomach crawled as she wondered what her parents could have found and just how incriminating it could be against her. Several different things came to mind, but she couldn't quite be certain which was the most likely. All the same, she could have recognized their 'trouble' voices anywhere and prepared herself for the worst.

At the bottom of the staircase, Minnie could see her parents standing shoulder to shoulder with expressions that were difficult to read. Her mother's arms crossed with an envelope poking out of the crook of her elbow. Minnie squinted her eyes in an effort to see if it was from the school, or from a neighbor, or….

"Minnie, why didn't you tell us you applied for something like this?" Minnie's mother began waving the envelope with pinched fingertips. "Wouldn't you need the signature of one of your parents?"

Minnie wrinkled her nose in a confused sort of expression. _Applied? Signatures? Permission?_

"She didn't apply, Monica," Minnie's father told her. "_They_ invited _her_. I'm fairly certain they don't need parental permission just to invite her."

Nothing her father said offered any more clues. Could a letter from Hogwarts or Commalong have come already? Minnie made her way down the stairs in an attempt to get a closer look.

"Don't be nervous, Minnie," her dad told her. "You should be proud of yourself. I have a feeling you're the only girl in Wonthaggi to be accepted here!"

Now things were just getting to confusing for words. Minnie snatched the letter out of her mother's hands, which was met with absolutely no resistance, which made matters even more confusing.

_To the parents of Hermione Wilkins,_

We are pleased to inform you that your child has been selected for attend the Keurong Science Camp, a week-long science camp sponsored by the National Foundation for Australia's Future Scientific Thinkers. Through a combination of excellent grades in science and the recommendations of teachers, your child has been chosen by our foundation committee to attend this intensive, hands-on learning opportunity, as well as the opportunity to highly qualified science professors and make future connections within Australia's scientific community.

The children who are selected for this camp may attend at no cost to their families. The purpose of this camp is to identify early children who show an aptitude towards science and offer them an early advantage towards a future towards scientific education and careers.

The camp begins February 16th, and all students will be returned home on February 22nd. Transportation to and from the camp will be provided, and housing will be provided by the University of Sydney, where the camp will also be held, along with access to all the university facilities.

This is amazing opportunity to gain a vast amount of educational enrichment, and it would be consider a privilege on our behalf if you would allow your child to attend.

Sincerely,

The Selection Committee for Keurong Science Camp—Primary Level  
**The National Foundation for Australia's Future Scientific Thinkers**

Minnie read over the letter again, and then read it a third time. She had never heard of The National Foundation for Australia's Future Scientific Thinkers, and she certainly didn't think her teachers had been watching her to see if she 'showed potential to become a future leader in the scientific community'. Her fourth grade teacher had kept her after school one day for accidently dumping a jar of fresh earthworms down Isabella Meyer's shirt, but she really didn't think that counted as 'scientific potential'.

"It would be during school," her dad said, taking the letter to read over it himself once more, "but from the looks of things, you'll be spending a great deal of your time in classes anyway."

"It would also be something that could be mentioned on Minnie's college applications," her mother said, looking at Minnie but not really sounding like she was talking to her. "That's not so far away."

Her parents tittered back and forth between one another, the only questions directed towards Minnie sounding as though they were actually asking _Minnie's_ permission for her to go to this place. Granted, her parents had had a bit longer to think over this over, but they still seemed a bit eager to let her run off to this camp without really knowing all that much about it.

"Do you want to go?" her dad finally asked.

In the living room, off to the side and out of her parents' line of vision, was Hermione, whose eyes were completely on Minnie. She was continually nodding with the slightest movements of her chin and her lips were just barely mouthing the words "_Say yes_!" Hermione knew _something_ about this letter and this supposed camp, and she wanted desperately for Minnie not to muck up the works, even if she did know what was going on.

So, for reasons Minnie couldn't quite put into concrete words, she decided to go along with whatever plan her sister might have had. "Yeah," she finally agreed. "Okay. It sounds like fun."

Very suddenly, Minnie felt the wind being crushed out of her. "I am so proud of you!" Minnie dad hugged her tight. "I always knew you were special, and now it seems like the rest of the world is beginning to realize it too!"

When Minnie peered over to where her sister stood, there was just the faintest trace of a sneaky smile on Hermione's lips, as though she were doing her very best to keep from spilling the secrets of a plan that was going so well. She then made her way towards the kitchen, so that she didn't betray that secret by accident. And, squirming as best she could, Minnie finally managed to wriggle out of her parents' tight hold to follow her. Her parents offered no form of protest.

"Hermione!" she called out for her sister. "Hermione, what's going on?"

In the kitchen, Hermione was pouring herself a glass of cranberry juice. "I don't know what you mean."

This time, it was Minnie's turn to curl her lips into a smile at the tingle going down her spine at the secret, whatever it might be leading up to. "There's no such thing as the National Foundation for Australia's Future Scientific Thinkers, is there?"

"You can't prove there isn't," Hermione snapped back at her. "And more importantly, neither can anyone else who might get a bit too curious."

"You sent the letter, didn't you?" Minnie asked, though Hermione didn't have to answer her for Minnie to know that she was right. "Why?"

Hermione said nothing, sipping casually at her juice, as though she were waiting to hear Minnie come up with the answer all on her own. Eventually, however, she seemed to get tired of waiting for Minnie to give her the answer, and just _had_ to blurt it out.

"Because…" she finally spoke, "you are going to be spending your little school holiday in Britain, meeting all the relatives you keep complaining that I am keeping you from."

Minnie's eyes went wide at the sudden declaration. Of course, her sister had promised, and Minnie had never believed this to be an empty promise on her sister's part, Minnie though Hermione might take her after Christmas, while she was on her summer vacation, or one of her other school breaks.

"Y-you really mean it?" she finally managed to sputter. "You're really going to be taking me to meet my family?"

Hermione smiled as she continued to sip at her glass. "If I don't, I will be tormented about every detail about your existence to no end." But her tone didn't seem to imply the dread the actual words might have.

"And I get to miss school?" _This_ certainly was another high point in her sister's plan. "Have you told anyone that I'm going to be coming back with you?"

"Not yet," Hermione's voice became low, but still with a slight hint of amusement, as though she still wasn't quite sure how to feel about this plan of hers. "I'm almost debating not telling Ron, make it a surprise for him."

Her glass empty, Hermione quickly rinsed it out and began to make her way towards the living room. "Pack for the cold, and Minnie," she said in a warning tone, "_no_ animals! Chunga, Spots, and BeeGee and Pickie can all stay home with Mum and Dad!"

Then, as though a sudden though had come to her mind, her head snapped to look back over her shoulder. "And I don't care if you're a witch, Minnie, Snape stays too!"

* * *

When Minnie's parents left work, they left Minnie with two very large suitcases packed so heavily, Minnie wasn't even sure how she had managed to zip them up, much less how she was going to go about carrying them.

In the days leading up to leaving for Britain (or the University of Sydney, the location of Minnie's supposed camp, to everyone else), the two of them had been spending almost every spare moment they had making sure Minnie had anything and everything she could possibly need for leaving home. It was almost as though they were somehow aware Minnie would be leaving for the wizarding world, a place as foreign as Tanzania or Brunei, instead of just a camp a few hundred miles to the north.

"Minnie, do you think you'll need a computer for your camp?" her dad had asked three days before.

The question had caught Minnie off guard. She knew from talking to Hermione that wizards couldn't use most Muggle electronics, but computers were a necessity most Muggles couldn't live without, especially for schoolwork. What kind of suspicions would be cast if Minnie told her dad she wouldn't need a computer while she was away at a science camp? "Um…they didn't say."

"She'll be at a college, Wendell," her mother had said to him. "I'm sure there will be plenty of computers there for her to use."

"And she'll have to fight all the university students there for a chance at them."

Minnie squirmed where she stood. Even if she wasn't really going to be at the University of Sydney, the idea of fight grown-up students for a chance at a computer did seem a bit frightening.

But before Minnie could offer anything further, her dad had pushed a leather case into her hands. "Here, you can take my old laptop," he told her. "It's a bit dated, but you'll be able to do typing and graphs, and you can get wireless internet on it."

"Thanks, Dad." Minnie decided it would just be easier to go along with all this rather than give her father more reason to ask questions.

And so, Minnie continued on with allowing her parents to do whatever they wanted in terms of getting her ready and giving them no reason to question anything about the entire situation. Finally, however, the day came for Minnie to 'leave', a car service supposedly coming to take her to Sydney. They didn't seem to be all that concerned about the fact that the 'service' would be coming for her after they had left for work, but more likely because Hermione had promised to stay and make sure to see Minnie off.

"Wendell, we're going to be late!" Minnie's mother snatched up her briefcase and rushed over to her daughter, giving her a quick hug around the shoulders and a kiss on the top of her head. "Good-bye, Minnie, learn a lot!"

Her father quickly joined in, hugging Minnie at her side. "Make us proud, alright?"

As she peered over the shoulders of her hugging parents, Minnie was almost certain she could see just a hint of jealousy on her sister's face, but any trace of it vanished as soon as they turned back around. "I'll make sure the car service gets here and that Minnie leaves alright."

"I'm so sorry you have to leave so suddenly, Hermione," their dad directed his attention to the woman. "They really must not be able to live without you."

"And I'm sure her family misses her a great deal too," their mother added.

Minnie wasn't sure how her parents could really be so upset. Hermione had been staying with them for almost a month now. Minnie also wondered how Hermione was going to go about returning to Australia afterwards since her parents seemed to be under the impression that Hermione was heading back to England for good. Their parents still hadn't retrieved their past memories, and Minnie was quite certain that Hermione was just going to use this as an excuse to stay in England and never come back…at least she hoped not.

The two sisters waved out the windows as their parents rushed towards the door and pulled away from the driveway. Once they were gone, however, the pair of them stood in silence, as though they never imagined they would get this far in their plans; a plan that Minnie took it upon herself to end. "Are going to take the fireplace Floo again?"

Hermione, startled back into attention, nodded, extracting the sack of Floo Powder that Minnie remembered from their trip to Sydney, and setting it on the brick foundation of the living room fireplace.

Minnie looked back and forth between the fireplace and the two very large suitcases just to her right, comparing the size between the two. "What are we going to do with all these?"

Minnie's question was soon answered by her sister extracting her wand from her pocket. One by one, each of the heavy suitcase shrunk to the size of a matchbox—Minnie couldn't even imagine how small her clothes were now—and then went whizzing into Hermione's open purse. _That certainly works,_ Minnie thought to herself.

When Hermione began to climb into the fireplace, Minnie quickly joined her, becoming much more aware of the tight fit than she was the last time they traveled through the fireplace. "I wanna throw the Powder this time!" she suddenly insisted.

If Minnie was going to be a witch, after all, she needed to get used to using things like Floo Powder and traveling through fire.

At first, Hermione seemed rather reluctant, but eventually relented, handing the sack over to Minnie. "Now say what I say," she instructed. "Sydney International Floo Network."

Minnie took a fistful of the glimmering green powder, and through it down towards the hearth with great gusto. "Sydney International Floo Network!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, even though she had no idea what this place was.

Green flames shot up all around them, just like before—only Minnie actually managed to keep her eyes open this time—though Minnie couldn't exactly pinpoint the time when her living room faded away and the new surroundings they were transported began.

Once the flames died down, they stood in an immensely long, yet narrow chamber, with sharp corners hiding the further contents of the stone-walled surroundings. The ceiling was pitch-black, but he walls reached high, so high, Minnie could not be certain there _was_ a ceiling.

"Wow!" Minnie gasped. "What is this place?"

"This is the International Floo Network. The one for Australia, anyway," Hermione told her, stepping out of the hearth which was notably larger than the one in the Wilkins' living room. "Think of it as the wizarding equivalent of an airport."

As they walked further into the chamber, turning a few corners, Minnie found herself in a long hallway made up entirely of fireplaces, one after another, all in a straight line like rows of ants on either side. Witches and wizards were constantly jumping out of fireplaces only to rush off to another.

A thought suddenly entered Minnie's mind. "But wait…why didn't we just go straight to your house? We didn't have to come to this place when we wanted to go to Sydney."

"Any ordinary fireplace Floo has its limits," Hermione explained, as though the explanation was obvious. "You can imagine how much magic and effort it would take to create a home Floo that could take you from Australia to Brazil."

Actually, Minnie didn't know. She still thought of herself as more a Muggle than a witch, so being able to have a fireplace that could take her _anywhere_ was still somewhat beyond belief.

"Most Floos can only allow a person to travel within their own nation, maybe a short distance outside the borders, but if a witch or wizard truly wants to travel abroad, the simplest way is to take the International Floo Network. Most countries have their own."

"Alright," Minnie agree, deciding to just go along with the reasoning she didn't quite understand. "So which one will take us to the English Network?"

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip. "It…won't be quite as simple as going to my home in Britain. See those numbers above all the fireplaces." Hermione pointed, and Minnie glanced down the corridor to see long lines of fireplace, one after another, each with brass place with engraved numbers bolted above them. "Not every Floo Network connects to every country in the world. That would be completely impossible. So instead, there is just a bunch of different Floo fires that only take a person to one place, which is a lot easier to do. We're going to have to take several different Floos to different countries, and when we finally do get to England, we can take one of the domestic Floos to home."

More seemingly aimless walking down the corridor led them to a section of wall displaying a giant map of the word, with each country assigned a different color and number to it. Off to the side, Hermione began scanning through what had to be hundred of slits in the wall, until finally coming across what seemed to be 'the right one'.

It was a very long piece of paper.

"We need to take Number Sixteen to Indonesia, then from there, we take Number Forty-one to Laos, Number Six to Iran, Number Twenty-two to Morocco, Number Nine back to Tibet, Number Twelve to Estonia, Number Twenty-five to—"

"It sounds like it would have been easier to take a plane," Minnie interrupted. "Isn't being a wizard supposed to make things easier?"

Hermione sighed. "It won't be so bad, I promise."

Minnie had heard that tone before. It was the sort that adults used towards children when they knew something was going to be awful, but wanted the children to play along anyway. Minnie could only imagine what awaited her that might have prompted this tone.

At first, the whole ordeal was just tedious and boring, going through Floo after Floo, occasionally having to stop in some country to buy more Floo Powder. Also, sometime after arriving in Morocco, Minnie was beginning to find that taking Floo after Floo after Floo was beginning to make her queasy, along with the feeling that her brain was shaking around inside her skull. Hermione told her that she was experiencing 'Floo Sickness' and that it always affected younger people first.

"Just one more, Minnie," Hermione assured her. "This one is going to take us straight home, I promise."

Minnie nodded weakly, but didn't put much substance into this promise, most of her effort going into launching vomit into another country.

"Minnie," she suddenly heard her sister say, gently shaking her by the shoulder, "we're at the last Floo. One more, and we'll actually be home."

But upon seeing that all Minnie could manage was a weak smile, Hermione decided, "Maybe we should sit down for a bit first, though."

Her sister took her by the hand and led her over to a stone bench in the middle of the corridor, making sure she say down slow and easy before taking a seat beside her. Minnie felt her sister begin to rub her back, and she leaned against Hermione's shoulder, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as Hermione instructed. It was probably the closest contact the sisters had shared in all the weeks they had known each other.

It only took a few moments before Minnie began to feel better, but Hermione made her sit of few minutes longer than was probably necessary, just to be absolutely certain the Floo sickness had passed. "Ready to go now?" she finally asked when Minnie knew she was more than ready.

They made their way to one of the domestic Floos, like the one they had first arrived in. Stepping inside the hearth, Hermione handing Minnie the sack of Floo Powder and told her, "Now, just say 'My sister, Hermione's, house'."

Minnie did start to wonder about just how aware any given Floo Stop was, but the rush of thoughts after that just made Minnie feel dizzy all over again. It was probably better to just go along with it. "My sister, Hermione's, house!"

One last time, green flames shot up all around the sisters, and finally, the traveling was over. Hermione stepped out into the room before them quite comfortably (of course, this was her home), while Minnie remained behind.

"It's alright," Hermione called back to Minnie, setting her purse on the coffee table. "You can just make yourself at home"

As she stepped out of the hearth, Minnie took on the role of the quiet observer, feeling very much like a scientist, more so than she had ever felt before. Minnie had never been in a witch's _home_ before. Sure, she had been to the Kellys' plenty of times, but she wasn't completely sure that counted.

At first, it appeared just to be a very ordinary British household (though Minnie had never been inside one of those either). There was carpet, and curtains, and couches and armchairs of matching fabric spread around the living room. The house was clean, or as much as it could be with two small children living there, with the toys of toddlers and infants scattered about. Minnie also took note of several moving photographs that were placed on tables and hung on walls, which were all moving, either smiling and waving or some other sort of captured activity.

Other than that, the living room at least appeared to be a fairly ordinary house, and Minnie found herself rather disappointed.

Suddenly, a very loud shout shattered Minnie's observation. "Hermione, please tell me that's you!"

On an instinctive impulse, Minnie stepped back out of sight while Hermione made her way closer to the kitchen until she almost crashed into the body that stormed into the room like a whirlwind, a man who stood an entire head over Hermione with blazing red hair that hardly seemed natural. He was holding a wailing baby boy in his arms, with a toddler clinging to his leg, screaming some sort of three-year-old's babble.

"Hermione!" he gasped as soon as he saw his wife. "Help!"

Hermione sighed and shook her head; her husband had not even noticed the little stranger in their home. "Minnie, sit down, will you?" she called back over her shoulder. "I'll be back in just a minute."

Still, Hermione's husband didn't notice Minnie's presence. All he seemed to care about was the fact that his wife was finally home and was here to help him. "Oh, it's alright, Hugo-lovey," Hermione said to the boy in a hushed, soothing voice. "Mummy's here. Mummy's back home."

Almost instantly, the tears began to subside, and the baby boy settled against his mother's shoulder. Minnie was absolutely shocked at the effectiveness of which she soothed the baby. It was one thing to know her sister was a mother, and quite another thing to see her in the act of being one.

"Mummy!" the little girl screeched, holding her arms up, demanding to be held as well. "Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!"

Hermione stared down at the little girl, trying to decide what to do, for even someone as multitalented as Hermione couldn't hold an infant and three-year-old at the same time.

"Rosie, you go into the kitchen with Daddy. Maybe he'll give you some pumpkin juice."

The man seemed to be somewhat relieved that his load had been so lightened, and took up his mission of getting his daughter juice with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Hermione's husband wandered awkwardly into the kitchen with Rosie once again clamped onto his leg.

Hermione made bouncing steps further back into the living room, whispering to her little boy in a soothing, sing-song tone. After watching her sister and the baby for a few moments, Minnie came to the conclusion that her nephew was so adorable, she just couldn't stand it anymore!

"Oh, I wanna hold him! I wanna hold him!" Minnie held her arms up with reaching fingers, almost looking exactly like little Rosie.

At the sudden request, Hermione seemed very unsure. It was as though even after as long as she had known Minnie, she still couldn't be sure her sister could be trusted to hold her son.

"Alright," she finally relented. "Go sit on the couch first."

Minnie bounced over to the sofa, taking a very steady seat and holding her arms up for the baby. Hermione very carefully set her little boy on her lap and made sure she had a good hold on him so he could just fall over onto the floor. Once all of it was over with, Minnie took the opportunity to survey the large bundle in her lap. Hugo was just starting to get a few speckles of freckles on his face, his hair just a little bit darker than what it had been in the photograph Hermione had shown her all those weeks ago. He was round and quite fat, almost more like a little bolder than a baby.

He was a lot bigger than Nicole's little brother, Jayden—not that Minnie was ever allowed to hold him on a lot of occasions, either.

"Hi, Hugo," Minnie tried her best to mimic the nurturing tone her sister had taken towards the baby. "I'm your Auntie Minnie. Can you say, 'Auntie Minnie'?"

"I can say 'Auntie Minnie!'" came the loud protests of Rose running into the living room with a sippy-cup full of some sort of orange liquid. "Auntie Minnie, Auntie Minnie, Auntie Minnie!"

Rushing out after the little girl was Hermione's husband, and once he arrived in the living room and his eyes rested on the couch, it seemed as though he had only just noticed that there was someone in his house who didn't belong.

Hermione was the first to adress the tension in the room. "Ron, this is Minnie, my little sister," Hermione introduced before turning her sister. "Minnie, this is my husband, Ron."

"Hi, hi," Minnie called over to him.

"Hello…hello," Ron replied, unsure if he was required to say the greeting twice as well as he made his way over to the couch. It was hard to tell whether his shock came from the fact that even Minnie's accompaniment back to England had been kept a secret or if he was still taken aback by the notion that his wife had a younger sister she had never told him about.

For the first time in quite a long while, Minnie found herself feeling unusually shy, especially at the concept of meeting a real wizard. Somehow, it seemed like Hermione didn't really count, since they both came from Muggle families. Hermione had told her about how the Weasleys were an old wizarding family, as old as they came. It was almost like a wizard born into an actual wizarding family was a completely different species from a Muggle-born (such as Minnie, Hermione, and the five Kellys).

Minnie noticed again that Ron was very tall, at least a head taller than Hermione. His hair was bright orange and his face was dotted with what seemed like hundreds of freckles. He wore burgundy robes that seemed tailored somewhere between a Muggle silk suit and the robes that Merlin wore in drawings.

Meekly, she reached her hand out to shake her brother-in-law's. "It's good to meet you…Ron."

Ron's grasp around Minnie's hand was weak. "It's nice to meet you too, Minnie."

The entire introduction was immensely uncomfortable for everyone involved, with everyone silently begging for something to being an end to it.

"PRESENTS!"

Every head in the room turned towards the sound of Rose tearing opening brightly wrapped packages, sometimes even with her teeth. At some point, Hermione must have un-shrunk Minnie's suitcases, and Rose had dug her way through them until she found the brightly wrapped parcels from the Australian Museum of Wizarding and Natural Magical History.

The interruption was unanimously welcomes, and everyone immediately rushed over to Rose, dragging Hugo along too, though the baby needed his sister's 'help' in opening most of them. And for a little while, it didn't seem to matter that a ten-year-old who was essentially a stranger was making herself completely at home

* * *

Eventually, the awkwardness in the Weasley household died down to a tolerable level and Minnie was able to have an enjoyable evening with the family she had never met: making faces at Rose and Hugo from across the table and running her mouth a mile a minute, asking every conceivable question there could possibly be about the wizarding world. Minnie had even snuck a jar of Vegemite in her suitcase, convincing Ron it was delicious and that he _had_ to try it, but neglected to tell him you were only supposed to spread a thin layer on toast, not gulp down a giant spoonful in one bite.

But then Ron got his revenge by pouring Minnie her first glass of pumpkin juice, and the one sip she took ended up being sprayed an impressive distance across the kitchen floor.

At a later point in the evening, the children had been ushered into the living room while Hermione and Ron remained in the kitchen. Rose had enlisted her 'Auntie Minnie' to the task of bedtime reading, taking advantage of the older girl's lack of knowledge to make her work her way through half a dozen different picture books. Hugo had been laid to nap on the couch bed that had been made up for Minnie, chocolate smears in the corners of his mouth and his eyes nearly covered by the hood of his bright orange Kangaroo Poncho (which, Hermione had to admit, was adorable).

"Mum is going to go bloody mad when she finds out about this girl," Ron brought up as he stirred his tea. "I'm…not exactly sure what she'd be called in terms of relation, but don't you think little Hermione's not going to get just as spoiled as any of her grandchildren."

Eyeing her husband from behind her teacup, she knew what he was saying was true. Molly Weasley was notorious for spoiling her grandchildren, as well as Harry's godson, Teddy, with treats. And this was with the children she saw on a regular basis. With Minnie, who had missed out on ten years of attention and indulgence, Hermione wasn't completely convinced Minnie would even survive her short visit to her family.

From the other room, Hermione could hear Minnie's voice was becoming quieter and more sluggish as she started on yet another picture book.

"She looks like you, you know?" Ron remarked suddenly.

Hermione's eyes turned back towards her husband's. "Hmmm?"

Ron expanded further. "Your eyes are the same shape, and so are your hands. And you have the same mouth; you smile the same way."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, though she wasn't completely sure why. "So I take it you're over my not telling you about her."

Exhaling deeply, Ron said, "Well…I'm still not completely sure _why_ you did it. I mean, it's not as though _I_ wouldn't understand parents having more kids."

The husband and wife chuckled together before Ron began again. "But I wouldn't say I was ever _mad_. It was a shock to hear about her, but I would say most of the shock has worn off by now."

Off to the side, a tiny bird popped out of the kitchen cuckoo clock, piping in a high pitched voice, "Why aren't your children in bed yet?"

Hermione suddenly became aware of just how late it really was (later than Rose and Hugo had ever stayed up in their short lives), and pushed herself away from the table before making her way into the living room.

"Rosie, Rosie, Rosie," Hermione said as she picked up her daughter, sounding completely exhausted herself. "It is time for bed."

Rose whined and complained all the way up the stairs, that Auntie Minnie was just getting to the good part, and she _promised_ she would read as many books as she wanted, but Hermione could not be reason with. On the way up the steps, she was also quite certain she heard the little girl breathe "Thank you" as she lay slumped up against the couch cushions.

Behind her, Ron had picked up Hugo and was following Hermione up the stairs. "_You_ are going to have a terrible tummy ache tomorrow, Hugo," Ron told the baby boy.

For as much of a fight as Hermione's children put up about going to bed, they fell right to sleep as soon as their heads touched their pillows. At this point, Hermione and Ron probably would have gone to bed themselves (the Hermione before she had children would have seen absolutely no logic in how merely taking care of two children could exhaust a person to the point where they would share the same bedtime as said child), but Hermione then remembered that, with the absence of Minnie's own parents, Hermione would have to be the one to make sure Minnie went to bed, ate her vegetables, brushed her hair and teeth, and all those assorted things.

As she made her way down the stairs, it suddenly occurred to Hermione that when Minnie had been born, she had been the exact same age as when Harry's parents had had him, and when Ron's parents had had their first son, Bill. And Hermione was already a mother, so why did it seem so strange that she was also now responsible for caring for a ten-year-old child?

"Minnie, time to wake up," Hermione said, gently shaking the little girl by the shoulder.

Minnie didn't seem to regain consciousness, although she did bat Hermione's hand away.

"Minnie, we have the guestroom upstairs made up."

"No," the little girl protested, pulling the blankets tighter around her.

Hermione shrugged. "Alright, if that's where you want to sleep."

Minnie, apparently perfectly content with this plan, almost immediately began to snore softly, her eyelids blinking rapidly in the grips of a dream.

When Hermione finally turned around to make her way back to the staircase, she saw Ron waiting for her, so that he could offer one last bit of friendly advice. "But take my word for it, Hermione. Come morning, there won't be a thing we can do to stop everyone in the world who could know about this from knowing about this."


End file.
